


Giving Up Ghosts

by GydroZMaa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But mostly angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Norway and England are ghost researchers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GydroZMaa/pseuds/GydroZMaa
Summary: All his life, Emil has been plagued by his ability to see things not of the living world--that is, until his brother's new research partner moves into town, accompanied by his enigmatic son, Leon.
Relationships: Hong Kong/Iceland (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. First Sighting

“Your new partner’s coming to work today, isn’t he?”

Lukas looks up from his clipboard and hums in confirmation. “He’s going to be here by the time you get back from school. I believe he’ll be staying until right before dinnertime, so you’ll have to get used to him hanging around for a while.”

Emil doesn’t appear fazed either way. As long as their business remains to themselves, he cannot care less if there will be an extra person in the house. At least this will take some of his brother’s attention off of him. He checks his bookbag to see if his supplies are in order and takes his keys from the rack.

“I’m leaving,” he announces to his brother.

“Mm, see you,” Lukas passively responds while sipping his mug of coffee.

The clouds overhead are considerably gray today. While the weather forecast predicted warmer temperatures this week, the air is still cold and the wind nippy. Despite having grown up in colder climates, Emil has to wear at least three layers to keep himself from shivering, but the weather is not the only thing causing a chill to run down his spine.

They are less visible during the daytime, he's figured out. Wandering aimlessly around as the lost souls they are, they linger and stare emptily into space, some straight ahead, others dazed, while the bold few will pester the living when they come close.

Passive ones are of less concern. It’s the ones that try to give Emil the spooks that annoy him the most. Around the age of ten, he realized it's best to ignore them. If he so much as hints at being able to see them, they will haunt him to no end. They will ask him questions he doesn’t know the answers to. They will beg him to help them cross over. Emil is not sure if there even is another side. That's not his job to figure out. That job belongs to his brother.

 _I can’t believe he found another nutjob who does that crap_ , he thinks as another one of them floats straight through the ground. He hates this place. He hates the decrepit atmosphere and the old-timey community. It’s quiet here. _Too_ quiet. Yet all the same, the voices never cease. Emil can always hear them.

When he arrives at school, things go swimmingly, that is until the homeroom teacher announces the new student arriving today.

 _Oh great. A new nutjob_ and _a new student. This is the most exciting day of my life._

As sarcastic as he's being, the rest of his classmates seem genuinely excited about the new arrival. Maybe the new student is from the city. Maybe the student is good at sports. Maybe the student will help their homeroom win the annual academics competition this year. Whoever this new student is, Emil is indifferent. Like every day, he wants school to end so he can hurry on home and hole himself up in his room. It is the one place he can find some solace in this infested town.

“Yo. Sorry I’m late.”

The classroom falls silent as a new voice introduces its owner. A girl—no, it’s a guy, Emil realizes—walks through the door, slides it shut with his foot, and flings a hand up in a curt gesture. His dark brown hair is cut in such a way that his bangs sweep to the left of his face; however messy it appears, there is no doubt that it is stylized. The rest of him consists of an odd t-shirt plastered with nonsensical words tucked behind a dark red blazer, which is covered with an expensive-looking overcoat. The icing on top of his wardrobe is an accented plaid red scarf with a pair of shining red headphones wrapped around his neck. Emil gets a classy yet somewhat hip vibe from this character and leaves his first impressions at that.

“I’m Leon,” the student says and adds, “or Jia Long or Kha Lung. Wang. Or Kirkland. Doesn’t matter. Just call me Leon. It’s the easiest one.”

Some classmates whisper to one another. Since he sits in the back corner, Emil can see some of the girls giggling. He rolls his eyes.

“Would you like to tell us something about yourself, Mr. Leon?” the teacher asks.

Mr. Leon flicks his head back which tosses some of his bangs away from his eyes. Emil steals another look and catches the unique coloration of his irises. They look like they’re made of molten gold.

“I just moved here from Hong Kong. Family issues an’ yadda yadda. Before you ask, yes, I can do kung fu. Yes, I love rice. And yeah, I get good grades.”

 _Do you now?_ Emil wonders, unimpressed.

The new guy finishes off with, “Nice to meet you. Thanks for having me and stuff.”

With his casual demeanor, it appears the new student will have no trouble fitting into the otherwise mundane school. Already he is getting interested looks from boys and girls, some looking eager for him to choose a seat next to them.

Of course, the only vacant seat happens to belong next to Emil. His previous desk mate had to take the rest of the year off after catching some exotic disease and was placed under strict government quarantine until further notice.*

“Leon, you can take the seat right next to Steilsson,” the teacher points to the back. “It’s the one over there.”

“M’kay.” Leon makes his way through the narrow rows and seats himself down, designer bookbag and all. He then looks to his new desk mate. “So you’re Steilsson?”

“Emil Steilsson, yeah,” he shortly replies and leaves it at that. He turns his attention towards the window as the teacher spends the next few minutes going over weekly announcements. During that time, he finds himself feeling irritably warm. It’s unusual. The classroom is normally cold to him despite the thermostat reading twenty-five degrees Celsius. Is it his clothes? Curious, he unbuttons his coat to release some heat. It does just that, to his surprise.

_Weird._

“Am I too hot for you?”

Emil winces and turns to his right. Leon is staring at him with a devious smirk.

“Mind your own business,” Emil hisses and turns curtly away. Out of spite, he buttons his coat back up and endures the heat for the rest of the period until lunch break comes around. He's sweating like a bullet tumbler by the afternoon. 

Leon’s new peers surround him the moment the bell rings. He gets bombarded with question after question as if he’s doing a mass-interview session for some famous celebrity event. To Emil’s distaste, he takes it all in rather well, answering each question with his own personal flare. There is something about the new kid’s confidence that annoys him. It’s not envy, is it?

Irritated, he unbuttons his coat completely and takes it off. The heat is getting to be too much for him. He wonders if he is coming down with a fever. He seemed fine this morning and on the way to school. A fleeting thought tells him that maybe it _is_ Leon who’s too hot for him.

 _Too hot in what way?_ he wonders with a scowl. _Cocky bastard, thinking he can get away with that stupid line…_

Luckily for him, any eventful conversations thereafter end with the second half of school. The final bells rings, and Emil is quick to pack up and push his way through students. A wave of cold hits him at full blast the moment he leaves the building. He shivers and pulls up his scarf and collar, watching as the other students act unfazed by the drop in temperature. This is nothing unusual to Emil, but he cannot help but wonder why it was so warm in his classroom.

 _I’m thinking too hard on this_. He dismisses this occurrence and power-walks home. Like on his way to school, the streets are filled with those drifting about. Time does not mean anything to them anymore. Time is forgotten to them, if anything. The cold intensifies. Emil stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps going until he reaches the dull blue house at the end of the street.

“I’m home,” he announces as he lets himself inside and removes his shoes. The kitchen smells faintly of coffee; Emil assumes his brother served their guest not too long ago. _They must be in the basement now_. He contemplates introducing himself when his brother makes an appearance.

“Ice, welcome home. Come say hello to our guest.”

“Nice to see you, too, Lukas,” Emil stares and follows his brother to the basement.

“How was school?”

“Fine,” he repeats like clockwork. He then remembers to add, “We got a new student.”

“How is the new kid?”

“Annoying. He sits next to me.”

“Want me to get him to move?” Lukas asks in a light-hearted tone, though his brother knows he is absolutely serious.

“I’m not a child,” Emil grumbles, “and he’s not _that_ annoying.”

When the brothers reach the bottom, the main machine is chugging out a grayish fog and blinking with blue lights. Emil has never asked, but he’s seen this enough to get an idea of the different phases of the machines. Blue lights normally mean the machine is properly functioning. A gray fog means it’s trying to attract spirits, like a sort of pheromone.

A man with messy blonde hair and a knitted brown sweater vest emerges. This must be the new partner. “You’re Emil, I presume,” he says and extends his hand out. “I’m Arthur. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too…” Emil’s voice trails off as he shakes his hand. He seems normal enough. Then again from the outside his brother looks normal, as well. If only the conditions of his behavior and interests were the same.

“He came here all the way from London,” Lukas says. “He can see them, too.”

“Oh.” Emil is not surprised.

Arthur raises his eyebrows at his partner (which are quite thick and black, Emil finally notices). “Can _he_ see them?”

Lukas hunches his shoulders. “Don’t know if he still can. Are you going to tell us, little brother?”

Emil frowns. “I don’t see them anymore. I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“If you say so.” His brother is anything but convinced.

Arthur scratches his head in awe. “Fascinating. I didn’t know you could stop seeing them by simply not believing in them. Have you put that in the books?”

Lukas shakes his head. “It hasn’t been verified because _someone_ doesn’t want to help me with testing.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s silly investing your time into things that don’t exist,” Emil snaps. He turns heel and leaves the basement. He is about to close the door when he catches snippets of the conversation below.

“Bloody hell, I forgot my catalog. It was in my lunch tote, too.”

“Would you like to go retrieve it? Your place isn’t too far away from here.”

“No, I’ll just…and he’ll…”

Emil doesn’t hear the rest. He fixes himself a quick snack of rye bread and smoked salmon and locks himself in his room. An hour passes by. Emil’s plate is empty and his literature homework nearing completion. He normally takes a break at this time to check up on his brother, but today Lukas has Arthur to accompany him.

“Shouldn’t mind…” he absent-mindedly murmurs to himself. His mechanical pencil twirls between his fingers while its owner looks out the window. Gray skies, grey mood. The leaves on the community trees are still fully fleshed out with fiery colors, but through the murky smudges on the old glass panes, the scenery is far from enjoyable.

A small breeze passes through Emil’s neck despite having no drafts in his bedroom. Frowning, he moves his eyes just enough to catch the aftermath of a little intruder, the remains of an animal perhaps.

“Damn house…” Emil pulls his sweater collar up over his neck and tucks his legs close to his chest. He begrudgingly stares at his other window. The sight of the cemetery no longer bothers him, but that doesn’t stop the townsfolk from talking behind his back. He hates the rumors and the teasing. It pisses him off even more that Lukas specifically chose this house on purpose.

Instead of browsing the new modern houses built at the other end of town, Lukas came here on the prospect of purchasing the ancient mini-manor next to the graveyard. The previous owner passed away from pneumonia and didn’t leave a will or inheritance in his name; no one was willing to take up the house or consider destroying it, seeing how the crummy residence was squatting next to the old cemetery. Superstition was the common excuse, yet they decided to preserve the house for one unspeakable reason or two. One thing led to another, and Lukas ended up purchasing the house at a dirt-cheap price. Claiming the house, itself, was the easy step. Renovating it and reconnecting pipes and lines for proper plumbing, electricity, and gas were the costly parts.

Truth be told, Emil might have admitted to liking the house in its mysterious coziness and traditional architecture had it not been for the constant noise from the graves throughout the day. And the _cold._ Even when the house is hotter than a senior retirement home, there is always room to complain about the cold. Lukas has since grown accustomed to it, but then, he is known to fare better in living conditions than his little brother. Emil fears that if he complains, his brother will catch on, and he can’t have that happening at his age.

 _It’s alright_. _It'll pass._ He shivers and cups his hands to his mouth. He can see his own breath.

“Break time.” He throws himself from his desk and stomps down the stairs. He will go fix himself a cup of coffee. The cold cannot affect his digestion, at the very least. He used to believe if he continued to eat hot food and drink warm beverages, he would be fine—that was, until the stomachaches started settling in. He has since learned to control his behavior and diet. He doesn’t want to make himself too noticeable.

The kitchen is near the back just one cellar and stairwell from the basement away. Coffee with some warm milk will do on this fine autumn day. Maybe he will add some cinnamon or a sprinkle of sweetened anise to give it a kick. He contemplates choosing the anise when a loud brass ring echoes through the house.

_Ding-doooonnng!_

“God—fuck!” Emil practically pops out of his skin at the sudden noise. His heart is pounding into his eardrums. The insides of his stomach are twisted upside down. Who in the world is ringing the doorbell here? No one comes to this house.

His senses return when he hears Lukas’ muffled voice calling from the basement. “Ice, can you get that? It’s a delivery.”

“Delivery?” he mumbles and moves to the front door. He cannot see the person on the other side since the stained glass is frosted and murky. The previous owner must have been incredibly tall given that Emil cannot reach the peephole even when standing on his toes. He does not consider himself short, either.

“Coming,” he calls from inside his house and undoes the bolts and locks. He opens the door and braces himself for the chill outdoors when something—or rather some _one—_ is standing right in front of him on his porch.

“Oh. Hey.” It’s Leon, and he is holding what appears to be a flower-embroidered tote complete with a foul-smelling odor leaking out.

Emil’s mouth is agape.

“Steilsson, right? You live here or something?” Leon studies his surroundings. “Shit, if Eyebrows didn’t give me the address, I would’ve taken this place for a haunted house. Can I come inside?”

His thoughts still processing, Emil barely utters an audible “Sure” before stepping out of the new kid’s way. What is going on? Why is Leon Kha-Jia Long Kirkwang-or-whatever-the-fuck in his house?

The new guest removes his shoes and looks around. He posses such an aura that makes him appear as a critique. Though he has not moved from the parlor, it is as though he is deducting imaginary points on the interior-decorating category of the imaginary point grid.

“It’s a freaking oven in here,” he comments, taking off his sleek coat (a different one than at school yet equally expensive-looking) and slinging it over his shoulder. “Is your family made up of cold-blooded lizardmen?”

It is now that Emil regains his grasp of human speech. He starts off by asking him a basic question, “What are you doing here?”

Leon turns to look at him. “Hmm?” He doesn’t look humble or embarrassed at all.

“My house," Emil emphasizes. "What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m here to drop off something,” he answers. “Where’s Arthur?”

Emil arches his eyebrows. “You know him?”

“He’s my dad.” Emil’s heart stops. “Well, one of them. I have another one back in China. It’s kind of…don’t ask. Too complicated and too boring.”

The pieces are slowly falling into place. Leon must have moved here with Arthur. That is why there are two new people showing up on the same day. But if that’s the case, then can this guy…?

“Um, Leon, can I ask you something?”

“You’re asking me something right now, aren’t you?” he smirks.

 _Smug-ass shit_ , Emil feels his blood boiling. “What exactly did you come to this place for?”

“I told you. Delivery.”

“Not that. I mean here, as in this town. Why did you move here from Hong Kong?”

The newcomer hands his head and lets out a tired groan. From his tone to his vacant expression, it's as though he is speaking to a child he doesn’t have time for. In short, it pisses Emil off. “It’s family stuff. Things happened, and I got stuck with my English dad. It was either this or go to cram school in backwater China. Is that good enough for you?”

Emil purses his lips together. “Sort of. But do you know what your, er, dad is doing here?”

“Oh, that.” Leon snickers. “He’s into paranormal stuff. Ghosts, spirits, things out of the ordinary. Apparently there’s this, like, totally legit group that does research on this sort of thing, and he gets paid to write reports and papers about it. Like, essays and crap. Can you believe that?”

 _Actually, I can_ , Emil almost says but holds himself back. There’s still one last thing to ask him.

“Uh, hey, Steilsson? Like, are you okay? You’re sweating up a storm. You’re not sick, are you? 'Cause if you are...” He starts to step back from him. 

Now that he mentions it, Emil is feeling warmer than usual. This cannot be a coincidence. It happened at school and it’s happening again. He puts his hand up to his forehead and feels sweat forming beads along his skin. Embarrassed, he takes off his jacket and uses a sleeve to dry himself off. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Not sick. My brother cranked up the heater earlier.”

“That explains the temperature,” Leon smirks. “Are you, like, gonna show me where I’m supposed to drop this stuff off or what?”

“Follow me,” he sighs. Lukas and Arthur are still in the basement, the main machine still chugging along. The two are so enveloped in their research that they don’t hear Leon walking right up to them and pushing himself up on his father’s shoulders like a vaulting box.

“Ggh! Leon!” Arthur cries, moving away and straightening out his vest. “I thought I told you to behave yourself while you’re a guest!”

His supposed son ignores him. “I got your lunch. Now, like, can I go home?”

“In a moment. I might need you for something else later…” Arthur appears preoccupied with something and returns to his previous uninterrupted state. Emil sees his lips moving, though he cannot make out the words he is saying.

Lukas joins in, taking notes down in his journal before turning his attention to the second guest. “You’re Leon, then. Arthur’s kid?”

“Yup. And you’re the ghost researcher guy?” It’s fleeting, but Emil thinks Leon looks amused if only for a second. “I thought you’d be some kind of whack job like my dad, but you don’t look half bad. How old are you?”

“Old enough to know you shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Lukas’ tone suddenly changes. It’s heavy with impatience, and the air he gives off feels electrified with contempt. Is there something between Leon and Lukas, Emil wonders?

Whatever the case, Leon clicks his tongue and backs off, telling Arthur he will be upstairs if he needs him. Emil watches, flabbergasted, as his classmate makes quick work of his introduction and saunters off upstairs. _You can’t just make yourself at home! Since when did this become_ your _house?_

“Ice, go play with Leon outside,” Lukas instructs like a parent. “Keep him out of the basement unless we call for him.”

“ _Why?_ ” This is getting annoying. “I’m not five. I don’t have to ‘play outside’ with him.” He looks to his brother’s partner. “What do you need him here for, anyway?”

Arthur looks up from his papers with a scrunched face. It has been a while since Emil has studied parental expressions, but he knows enough that the face Arthur wears is one of contemplation. Shall he say something or shall he not? _Just spit it out, dammit._

“Leon is…He’s special.” _Special?_ “I don’t know if he got it from his parents or if it was something he picked up from Ya—his other family—but there’s something peculiar about him that makes the supernatural behave differently.”

Emil is taken aback. “You’re saying he can see them?”

“No, that’s the thing: he can’t see them, but he can affect those surrounding him who _can_. I’ve told Leon about his uncanny ability; however with me…well…not being exactly close with him, it’s hard for him to believe me. I suppose it’s hard to believe anything if you can’t see it.”

Emil does not comment.

Arthur directs himself at Lukas. “I suppose we can always try using your research to see if your theory holds true, Bondevik. If what you wrote is correct, then the apparitions should become visible even to someone like Leon.”

“They should…” Lukas’ dead blue eyes wander to his brother. “…If only someone who was familiar with them in the past could help me with testing first.”

“Pass,” Emil grunts.

“If only someone in this room could do it…someone I call my precious little brother.”

“Not doing it, Lukas. I’ve had enough of your stupid antics. I don’t want to put up with it now. Why am I even here? Why are we—?” He shakes his head. “Forget it. I’m out. I’m going to finish my homework.”

Arthur comments about his attitude while he leaves, not the part about refusing his brother’s offer, though. “Such a studious young man. I wish Leon picked up a thing or two. He’s smart, but I get the feeling he’s investing his energy and time into other things.”

Speaking of Leon, he is lounging on one of the old loveseats, flipping mindlessly through his phone. He’s made himself completely at home.

“Don’t you have homework you need to be doing?” Emil crosses his arms.

“I’ll do it later,” his classmate lazily responds. “Besides, my stuff is back at the house. Arthur wants me here, so I’m staying here.”

A heavy sigh leaves Emil’s chest. He watches him for a moment and decides to leave the guest be. Before carrying himself out, however, he pushes his sleeves back. It has never been this hot before. In fact, Leon has since stripped down to his t-shirt. The house should be at an even temperature throughout, same goes for the basement. But it was freezing down there. Why is it so warm here?

“Getting stuffy?” Leon asks without even needing to look up.

Emil swallows. “It’s usually not this hot around here.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like a sauna.” He clicks his phone off. “You sure you’re not reptiles in human clothing?”

“Positive,” Emil flatly responds. “I was wondering about something: Arthur says you can’t see ‘them.’ Is that true?”

Amused, Leon chuckles. “What do you care? Can you see them, yourself?”

“I…I used to.”

“Really.” Unconvinced.

“Let me back up. Do you even consider they _might_ exist?”

Leon’s golden eyes look off to the side as if trying to find hidden cameras scattered around the house. While skeptical, there is no reason for him to not tell the truth. “If Arthur can make a living out of it, obviously something’s going on down there in your basement.”

“Alright, then.” Emil takes a breath. “Can you keep a secret? I-It probably doesn’t mean anything to you since, well, you know...but I’ve never actually spoken about this to anyone.”

“Hey, it’s not every day you see someone who studies the afterlife.” He is thankfully being mellow about it. Emil can appreciate that. “So what’s eatin’ you up, Steilsson?”

He fidgets with his hands and notices how pale he is underneath. Having been haunted by his ability since birth, he has grown accustomed to wearing long-sleeved clothing. Now, after meeting Leon, things have started to change.

First thing’s first. “You can call me Emil. Or Ice. There’s no need to be formal.”

Leon raises an eyebrow. They aren’t as thick as Arthur’s, but he wonders if his father’s morning routine has somehow affected his son’s appearances. “Where’d ‘Ice’ come from?”

“It’s because, I guess, I’ve always been cold.” He fingers his hair. “Cold skin, cold attitude, and my hair if you haven’t noticed…”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” Leon is smiling. “I’ve never seen someone with hair like yours. Or your eyes. The white goes well with that shade of violet. I like it.”

Now Emil is feeling a different kind of hot. No one has ever _complimented_ his appearances before. People have said it was weird that he had white hair at such a young age, and his eyes were thought to be an unnatural hue compared to those with blue eyes. He has always done his best to ignore those remarks, but now that someone says he likes his appearance, he does not know how to respond.

Luckily, Leon notices his flustered silence, and instead of teasing him as he did before, he moves back to the original subject. “Cool. Ice, then. I’ll call you Ice. Anyway, you were saying something about keeping a secret. What were you going to tell me?”

“I-I…” Deep breaths, he tells himself. The warm air feels good in his lungs. “I’ve always been able to see them. I still do.”

Leon does not say anything.

Unsure if he is listening or stunned, Emil continues. “I told my brother a long time ago that I stopped seeing them to make him quit worrying about me. But I lied to him. I see them all the time. At home, at school, around town…I can’t stand it. There’s no one to talk to about this, and then you two show up…” His lips keep moving but his voice is lost. His body is shaking despite the warmth.

“…So are they here right now?” Leon breaks the silence.

“What?”

“The…uh…ghosts. Spirits. Are they here?”

Emil freezes. He acted too impulsively. They must be listening. They know he can still see them now. Frightened, he looks around for any sight of them, the stabbed man in the pantry, the gouged blind soldier in the closet, the snapped mice and gutted dog passing up and down between the floorboards. None of them are here.

_What is going on…?_

“Um, Ice?” Leon leans towards him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” though he is anything but. “They aren’t here. They should be, but they aren’t. I don’t understand. They’re always here.”

Surprisingly, the look on Leon’s face isn’t one of disappointment or amusement. If anything, he is wearing the look of someone who knew this would be the outcome. “Figures,” he says. “Arthur was telling me the same thing.”

Emil blinks.

Leon explains, “He was trying to show me how some of the ghosts or whatever can interact with the physical world, but every time he tells me he has one’s attention, they’re just gone. It’s like they never existed. Maybe they really don’t.”

“But they do,” Emil insists, his voice rising. “It’s not a prank. I know they’re here. I’m not making this up. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to live like this…!”

“Okay, okay.” Leon holds up his hands to stop him and lowers his voice. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I don’t think you’re making any of this up.” He bites his lower lip. “Listen, I was chatting with some of our classmates today. I sit next to you, right? So they were talking about you.”

Emil withholds a pained expression. “What did they say?”

“They said you and your brother are both…” He sighs. “There’s no good way to put it. They think you’re psychos. Your brother’s research always goes public, so it’s not like everyone else is in the dark. Some of the kids believe if they get close to you, they’ll start seeing things, too. And some think you might be a ghost, yourself. Uh, I’m not the one who said that, alright? That’s what other people having been thinking.”

It’s so cruel it’s comical. Emil has known some of his classmates for five years. He grew up with them. He may have kept his socializing to a minimum, but that does not make him less human, does it?

“Ice…? How are you feeling?”

A short breath escapes his lungs. The heat is near unbearable. It pours out in the form of tears streaming down his cheeks. He mistakes his sounds for hiccups until he realizes he is laughing.

How can he ask that? After hearing the rumors and lies about him, after knowing what he sees and has to endure, why should he care how he is feeling? 

_Why?_

Something squeezes him. He is still trembling, but his movements are confined in between a pair of arms. It’s been so long since he felt something like this. It’s warm. It’s so warm.

Emil is a mess when he finally stops. His hair is tousled from leaning against Leon and his eyes are dry and swollen. Leon’s shirt is wrinkled from hugging him.

“Sorry about that, Ice.”

Perhaps it's because he is deprived of oxygen, but Emil lets out a shaky laugh. “Why are you apologizing?”

Leon shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if you were okay with me doing that. How are you?”

“Better. I think I needed that.” He dabs his eyes with a wadded tissue and chucks it into the wastebasket. “Are you fine with this?”

“With what?”

“Knowing what I see, what’s around us.”

“I’m not going to pretend like I’m aware of them,” Leon states. “I still can’t see them. Arthur said I have this thing about me where ‘they’ aren’t there when I’m around.” He stops to think. “It’s probably why you were taking off your coat at school, am I right?”

Emil shortly nods. “It’s always cold when they’re present.”

“So, like, is our school haunted, then?”

“Huh?”

“You were talking about how it’s cold. Are they, like, seriously in the school, too, then?”

“Yeah. Lots of them.” He attempts to study the look on Leon’s face, but he cannot tell if he is excited or frightened. It’s hard to read him. “They’re not students, though, and I wouldn’t say it’s haunted, or at least, I haven’t paid enough attention. Our school was built over an old war bunker that was gassed out.” He cringes his shoulders. “There are a lot of them on the lower floors.”

Leon makes a face. “ _Yech_. Sucks to be them. Is it really better to ignore them? I mean, isn’t there supposed to be a reason why they’re still wandering all over the place?”

“I don’t know,” Emil admits. “You’d think they were stuck here because they have unfinished business to take care of, but we’re not even sure if there’s another side or how it works. Even animals turn up now and then. My brother’s specialty is studying the afterlife. The thing you saw in the basement, the big one, is supposed to be used to communicate with whatever ‘other side’ there is. Supposedly, the ones who have crossed over, as you might call it, have better grips on their memories and explain the process better. It’s still finicky. I don’t pay attention to the full details.”

“Wait, but you can actually communicate with them, can’t you?”

“I could if I wanted to, but it’d be too much of a pain.”

“Why? Your brother?”

Emil wrinkles his brow. “That’s one of the reasons. The main thing is that once they know you can see them, they’ll all try to ask if you can help them.”

“Is there any…I dunno, benefit to helping them?”

“That’s…” Emil’s voice fades. “It’s not my place to say for certain. There are those who might be happier being here, those with fond memories of the people and places here. But they don’t fully grasp what they want most of the time until it’s too late. Sometimes it’s painful.” His hands form fists. “I’m not strong enough to handle it. I’m not a medium and I’m not a saint. I’ve seen what getting involved does to people. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Leon stares. “…Did something happen?”

“Leon!” It’s Arthur. “Come down here! We need you for a moment!”

“Coming!” he shouts back and gets up. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have pried. And hey, you might want to, like, maybe stay out of your brother’s way today. It can take a day or so for your eyes to get better.”

At the suggestion, Emil rubs his eyes. They _do_ feel puffy, and it _is_ hard to keep them open.

“Want me to tell your brother you’re going to be stuck in your room all day?” Leon suggests. “You might need to get some food, but it’s the easiest solution.”

“That could work, actually,” Emil considers. “Will you do that for me?”

“Sure,” he smiles. “Then…I guess I’ll be heading home after this. See you tomorrow?”

“Mm, see you tomorrow.” He tells his feet to move yet he does not budge. Even at this short distance, he can feel the cold returning. Already he misses it, the warmth. “Leon,” he calls to him. His chest leaps when he sees those golden eyes looking back at him.

“Wassup?”

“…Thank you.”

A smile spread on Leon’s face. “No problem, Ice. Hang in there, alright?”

“I’ll manage,” he smiles back.

“See ya.” He waves in his previous curt fashion and disappears down the basement. The moment he is out of sight, a cold fog falls over Emil’s body. No longer safe from the wandering souls, he takes Leon’s advice to heart and goes to his room. On the way up the stairs, he spots the soldier letting out a low groan as his left eye dangles out of its socket. The mice are back, too, skittering up the walls in clumsy hobbles, their vertebrae snapped in half after falling victim to traps.

Everything has returned to normal, Emil’s “normal,” that is. Today, for the first time in his tormented life, he was able to experience…

 _Just life in general_ …

It’s so inviting, and yet so unfair. What normal people take for granted is all but a desire for him. But there’s Leon. Whatever it is, something about his presence makes things return to normal. Emil can feel normal with him there. He longs for that feeling again. An hour, a month from now, to experience such warmth will be worth waiting for. His heart stirs. He is looking forward to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an old story I wrote about 5 years ago. I wrote three chapters and finished a fourth chapter that was lost. This story's a little hard to find on its own, so I've decided to upload it here! I made a few little edits, but you can see my writing from 5 years ago. I'll probably update this on Mondays. It's a shorter story and hopefully more on the lighter side compared to "Rings" haha.
> 
> *Huh. That didn't age well. I wrote that before 2020, I swear.


	2. Second Chance

Emil didn’t hear Arthur leave last evening. Having cooped himself up in his room and retiring early, he manages to wake up earlier than his brother. The mornings are colder than the nights, since he has to endure getting out of his warm covers and adjust to the frigid temperature. The usual wanderers are already out and about; some float through the cabinets while others silently study the amenities in the kitchen. Paying no mind to the squeaks and scratching, Emil eats breakfast, washes up, and departs for school.

No one walks the streets near his home. Emil’s house is far away from the rest of civilization, and it takes roughly three blocks for him to encounter any of his classmates’ residences. With the hour being so early, no one is walking or driving to work in the main town. Emil is fine with the solitude despite his wispy company; it is easier to put up with them instead of those alive if it means not needing to interact with them.

The school gates are open mainly for the custodians to do morning preparations, along with a few dedicated teachers and staff. Some students are here, too, having been dropped off somewhere farther while their parents commute to work. Emil feels the hairs on his neck prickle as he walks through the metal gates. He sees some of them still gasping and wheezing as if reliving the horrific last memories of their lives. Even if he thought differently about them, Emil believes they are beyond help.

Upon reaching his classroom, there are three students present: two siblings of the same age and one whose parents drive all the way to the city for work. None of his classmates so much as look his way as he walks past them and sits down in the corner. He tells himself that he is used to being ignored, but it cannot hurt to acknowledge him, can it?

_Maybe I_ am _a ghost,_ he dryly humors himself.

Ten minutes of staring out the window passes before the next student comes in. “Morning, guys.” All heads turn to the door. It’s Leon.

Emil nearly says hello when the others cut him off with greetings of their own.

“Hey, Leon, you wanna go see a movie after school? Today’s the matinee special.”

“Maybe next week,” the new student sheepishly grins. “I’ve gotta help my dad with some work right after I get off.”

“Oh. Yeah, next week is good, too.”

“Uh huh,” he passively replies and goes to his seat. He sets his bookbag down by his feet and directs his attention to his desk mate. From the corner of his eye, Emil can see he is wearing a warm-colored pea coat with a loose double-looped mahogany scarf. Underneath this is a black sweater that Emil presumes is made from cashmere, given the fine knitting and lack of stray fibers. “Mornin’, Ice.”

“Morning,” he responds in a tight voice. He does not know what to say despite wanting to see him today. The temperature is rising. He feels stuffy. If he gets close to Leon, will the others shun him, too, or maybe they’ll pick on him even more?

As Emil is pondering this, Leon begins talking as he might to any “normal” person in the room. “Lukas an’ Arthur were saying that, like, they have an idea of what’s going on with me.”

“Re—?” Emil’s voice dies down to a whisper. “Why are you talking about that here?”

Leon rolls his eyes. “I thought you wanted to know.”

“Of course, but _here?_ ”

His desk mate raises an eyebrow and stares at the few classmates for a couple of seconds. Given that the classroom is still nearly empty, it is not difficult for them to pick up individual voices. “Fine, you wanna talk about it after school?”

Emil narrows his eyes. “I thought you and Arthur had something to do.”

Leon chuckles. “Ice, didja already forget what my dad does?”

“Oh.” He pauses to think. “Does that mean you’re coming over again?”

“Yeah, but this time I’m going straight over. So we’re walking together.”

Emil furrows his brow. “You’re alright with that?”

A smirk plays on his desk mate’s face. “You really put yourself down a lot, don’t you?”

To this Emil says nothing and looks the other way and out the window. Even though Leon is here, he can still see the ones in the courtyard outside.

Almost as if reading his thoughts on the subject, Leon changes topics. “Are you doing alright today, Ice?” Emil wants to respond when he hears whispering and snickering. Leon notices, too. “They bothering you?”

“Who?” he asks.

“The, uh, I was gonna say ‘them,’ but if those guys over there are bothering you, I can take care of that.”

A hot rush pulses through Emil’s body. He wonders if this is because Leon is here or because, well, Leon is _here_.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Pardon?”

“ _This_. Why are you being so nice to me?”

Leon cocks his head. “What, you don’t want me to?”

“No! I-I mean, it’s better than being picked on, but it’s just that…you don’t really have a reason to care about me.”

“What kinda bullshit talk is that?”

Emil flinches at Leon’s sudden aggressive tone. The others heard it, too, and are all staring at them. “You think I need someone to _tell_ me to be nice to you? Shit, now I see why people think you’re psycho—it’s ‘cause when people actually _try_ treating you normally, you pull this kind of crap on them.”

His chest hurts. He knows he’s sweating from the tickling drops rolling down his forehead. It’s embarrassing. He doesn’t want Leon to see him like this. He doesn’t want _anyone_ to see him like this.

“…Stop looking at me.”

Leon blinks. “What? Ice—Hey! Where are you going?”

But Emil is already out of his seat, taking his bookbag and pushing through the desks to the door. He doesn’t stop until he is out of the school building and around the side by the dumpsters. The smell is not as bad with the weather being chilly, and for Emil, it is colder with the others lingering around the pavement. He takes a moment to catch his breath and watches the air he exhales condense in visible wisps. The warmth is gone, and so is Leon. Is this okay, he wonders?

However, he has little time to ponder his decisions, for he is not the only living person here.

“Hey, kid, what’re you doing here?”

Emil snaps up and looks beyond the dumpsters where a team of thuggish students is loitering. With the stink of the dumpster and cold drowning out his sense of smell, he failed to detect the other odor in the air. He sees smoke coming out of the students’ mouths and nostrils; he wonders if they are doing drugs or merely smoking.

His body is shaking. “I just needed a place to think…” he nervously mutters and begins backing off. “I’m done now.” He means to turn and retreat back into the school when one of the boys snags his hood.

“I know you. You’re that one ghost kid who lives by the graveyard.” He grabs a handful of Emil’s hair and tugs— _hard_. It is all Emil can do to bite back his tears. “Guys, look at this! His hair really _is_ white! Does hanging out with ghosts do that to you?”

“Let go,” he manages to growl through his teeth. What will he do? He cannot fight back; doing so will only provoke them.

The students laugh. “Or what? You gonna call your ghost friends to come and help you?”

_If only I could…_ Emil wishes more than anything. He barely struggles as the one grabbing his hair pulls him along and took him around the back. There is a set of metal doors built into the ground that lead down into the old war-ridden bunker. When the school was being built, the builders filled the bunker walls with concrete and support beams to allow the bottom to be used for storage. However, few besides the janitor comes to and from this place, for rumors spread that one can hear the ghostly wails of those who fell victim to the gassing below the school building. Emil isn’t sure about the others, but he knows he definitely hears them every once in a while. In fact, he can hear them now.

_Please not there. Anywhere but there._ The students cannot see them, but there are hands reaching out from the earth in an endless struggle to break free from their eternal prison. Fingers brush through Emil’s clothes and shock him with their icy touch to the point where he cannot stand it anymore.

“Stop! Don’t put me in there!” He starts to scream and flail. Two more sets of arms restrain him as the others open the latch and toss him inside. Emil hits the cold concrete with his hands out in front, thankfully bracing his skull from splitting open. He wastes no time getting up and running for the opening when the metal doors slam down on him with a deafening clang.

“Let me out! Let! Me! Out!” He pounds as hard as he can on the doors and shoves at it with every bit of strength he has, but it doesn’t budge. He cannot even hear the raspy laughter of the boys anymore. It’s almost as if it’s soundproof in here.

_This is bad._ He has to get out. He will go insane down here. The wailing and coughing are echoing through the bunker in mad succession. It’s cold. So cold.

Desperate for some comfort, he starts to move around in search of a light. Perhaps there will be another path leading out of this place. Or if anything, he will have something to make him feel safe until one of the janitors comes around to pick up supplies, maybe, eventually…

“Come on, where is it…?” His hands run along the cool walls while he fumbles for a switch. He discovers some wires strung to a thin pipe that lead to what feels like a small metal box. Relief comes to him when he detects a switch and hurries to flick it on.

Darkness.

Frowning, Emil tries again. Nothing happens.

“No…” His previous relief becomes overwhelmed with panic. “Come on…No…!” On and off he flicks the switch, hoping a wire will connect, the power will come on, a spark, anything. The noises are growing louder and the air colder still.

“Not here.” He shivers. “Please, not here.”

His fingers stiff and his nose running, he wraps himself up in his coat and huddles against the wall, too afraid to find his way back to the hatch. He means to dig for his phone when he recalls an instance when one of the boys ripped his bookbag from his shoulder.

“Fuck…” He sniffs and shuts his eyes. A normal person will have gone to look for another way out or improvise with the tools in the dark; however Emil is anything but normal. He dares not move and make contact with the spirits, their moans rattling in his numb ears. 

Thoughts and memories drift in and out through his mind while isolated in the darkness. He would not be here if he didn’t lash out at Leon like that. Up until that point, Leon was treating him normally even when he was one of the few who knew about his condition. Maybe he deserved this.

He sniffs again, not because of the cold but because he starts to cry. Why is he acting like this? Leon is right: every time people try being nice to him, he coldly shuns them away. It is his fault and his fault alone. All along, they were only trying to help. His parents, Lukas, Leon…and…

_Scrrreeeaak!_

“Ice! Ice, are you down there?”

Emil jolts. It’s Leon.

“Ice!” he calls again.

“I-I’m here!” he shouts, shakily standing to his feet and running for the source of light. The cold air dissipates the closer he approaches until he sees Leon peering out from the bunker and straight at him.

Leon’s eyes relax when he sees he is alright until he notices Emil running full speed into his chest. “Ice—Oof!” Both boys tumble to the ground, landing less than gracefully from the impact.

Emil can feel ringing in his ears. His entire body feels cold, but in the presence of this strange student, the once stagnant and frigid air that enveloped him vanishes into nothing. “Sorry,” he apologizes and moves away from Leon.

Dusting off his clothes, Leon gets to his feet and hauls Emil off the ground. “Don’t mention it.” He waits for Emil to gather himself together before handing over something. “Here. I found this in the bushes. Some lowlifes were tossing it around. I figured out where you were after I took care of them.”

Emil blinks incredulously, deciding it is best to tread around the topic of the delinquents. “How’d you know this was mine?”

He tosses his head. “It had that little flag tag on the strap. Looks like you’re the only one who has it.”

“Oh…” He looks at his bookbag strap and finds it still there, a small reminder of his homeland. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Leon brushes it off. “I should be the one who’s sorry. I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Emil lowers his head and presses his lips together. He feels hot again, but it is a different kind of hot. This sensation is unlike anything he has known, and unsure of what it is, he does not want to divulge it with Leon. “You’re right, Leon. I push people away, but it’s not because I don’t like you; it’s because I don’t want you getting caught up in all of this. It was bad enough when…” He takes a pause and wonders if now is a good time to bring _that_ up. Leon appears to be listening, but he knows little about Emil past his ability and his struggles with it.

_Not right now_ , he thinks and dismisses his previous subject. “Never mind. I…I’m glad you came to look for me. Thank you. Again.”

A smile appears on Leon’s face. It is not the same smug and suave smile he wore yesterday, rather he genuinely seems happy. “No problem, Ice.”

Unsure of what to do next, the two stand face-to-face next to one another, waiting for one or the other to act. Emil thinks to say something else to hopefully get to know Leon better, when the first school bell rings overhead.

Realizing just how long he was out here, Emil starts gathering his possessions. “Crap, we’re late!” He starts making his way back into the building when Leon grabs his free hand. Emil lets out a sharp gasp at his touch. Back when he was a child, he used to hold hands with his parents and brother, and once in preschool, one of the teachers held onto his hand while they waited for his parents to show up.

And then there was one time, what he believed to be the last time he held hands with his brother.

But it turns out that time was not the last, after all.

“Ice, let’s go,” Leon says without giving him room to process his actions. He immediately tugs Emil in the other direction away from the school building. They are across the street by the time Emil manages to figure out what he is doing.

“We’re are we going?” he asks, looking back. “We’re late, Leon. Shouldn’t we be going back?”

“Nope. We’re ditching today.”

“ _We?_ ”

“Uh-huh. ‘Sides, I don’t think you want to go back after what happened down there, do you?”

Emil lets out a sigh and shudders at the memory of being trapped in the school bunk. “No,” he at last admits, “but that doesn’t mean we should leave school. There were people who knew we were in class today.”

“So? Sometimes you need a break.”

Emil is still hesitant. “I don’t know…”

“And your eyes are puffy again,” he adds.

“Oh.”

Leon stops and causes Emil to bump into his back. He turns and faces him. “Ice, do you like being with me?”

His mouth is wide open. “Wha…? Where’d that come from?”

“C’mon, it’s an easy question.”

Emil furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t quite understand where this is all coming from. “I don’t _mind_ being with you.” He feels a rush of color move to his cheeks when he looks at his hand. Leon is still holding it. “I don’t see them when you’re here, if that means anything.”

Leon smiles. “It does.” On that note, he moves forward and drags Emil along. “Let’s do something fun. You got anything to do in this town?”

Emil honestly can’t remember the last time his brother took him somewhere entertaining. If there are activities he was once fond of, they are far too old to enjoy now. The only place he returns to every now and then is the brook trail in the woods; at least the human apparitions are fewer there, but he isn’t sure if Leon is the type to enjoy nature, being from Hong Kong. “What do you like doing?” he asks, hoping it will help him get a better understanding of this person.

“Me?” Leon thinks on it. “Mmm, there’s listening to music, I suppose. Catching up on the latest news…Eating is good, too, but only if it’s high-end stuff.” He wrinkles his nose as if reminiscing about a distasteful memory. “Arthur cooks awful food. Like, the stuff’s not edible, I swear. It’s all black mush.”

“Oh,” Emil comments.

“Yup. That’s why I became the designated cook of the house. I’m not exactly doing anything else, anyway. Home was better in Hong Kong.”

To be polite, Emil asks about it. “How was it back there, living in Hong Kong?”

“Noisier than here, that’s for sure,” Leon grins. “There’s always something new to try and different people to meet. Over there, the lights never go out. There are a bunch of stores and stalls and all kinds of food to eat.” He exhales a wispy breath. “If it wasn’t because of cram school and family issues, I’d love to go back.”

Emil blinks. “Is your real father back in Hong Kong? You don’t…” His voices trails off, ashamed he started to suggest such a topic.

But it does not seem to bother Leon. “You’re saying I don’t look anything like Arthur, right?” Emil meekly nods. “That’s because he’s not my real dad, you’re right, but neither is the one back in China, not Hong Kong.”

“How’s that?”

“I was adopted as a baby—by both of them.” Judging by Emil’s blank face, Leon decides to explain further. “My Chinese dad and my English dad—that’s Arthur—used to be together, and they, like, wanted a kid of their own, so that’s how I became part of the family. But then things didn’t work out after a while, so when I was old enough, they split up and went their separate ways. I wanted some freedom, so I went to study in Hong Kong.” He rubbed his neck. “Then out of the blue, my old man in China asks me to come back and go to cram school for my last year of high school because he knows I’m taking off and living on my own after I graduate. And then Arthur comes along and offers to let me stay with him, instead, as long as I help him out every once in a while, so here I am. It’s a boring story, I know. That’s why I didn’t want to tell it to the class.”

Emil shakes his head and smiles softly. “No, it’s more interesting than my story.”

“Yeah?” Leon raises an eyebrow to him. “Try me?”

“Lukas and I are half-brothers, different fathers, same mother.”

“Huh…” Leon’s voice trails off.

“Lukas’ father…” He shakes his head. “Lukas doesn’t talk about him. After he was out of the picture, our mother remarried to my father and I was born.”

It is then that Leon dares to ask something. “Did any of them…? Could they see them, too?”

Emil moves his eyes. “…I think Lukas’ father could see them, actually. Our mother never saw them, but I think my father knew about it. It doesn’t really matter now.”

Leon blinks. “So then where are they now? Your mom and dad.”

“…My parents died in a head-on collision,” Emil puts it bluntly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable—”

“No, it’s alright,” Emil stops him, though his hand is squeezing Leon’s. “They died instantly, so they didn’t have to suffer. And I think…” His voice softens. “…Perhaps my parents were getting tired of me.”

Leon is expressionless. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of what I could see. I wasn’t able to hide it like my brother could. I was difficult for them. Looking back, I think they didn’t want to tolerate this side of me forever. They didn’t deserve to die, but maybe in some way, it’s better than what they had to work with.” He fumbles. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking like this. You didn’t even know your real parents…”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t have thought that badly of the situation. I might not be in the right place to say this, but I don’t think they hated you to the point where they’d rather _die_ than deal with you. That’d be pretty messed up, don’t you think?”

Emil’s eyes flutter. His nose stings from earlier, and his eyes are still puffy. He nearly breaks out in tears, but he doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. So, doing his best to hold it in, he forces a smile and acknowledges Leon’s words. “It wouldn’t be right. My parents were good people. Maybe they never thought that at all.”

The words sink in, and the two fall into silence as they walk through the streets towards an unknown direction. With Leon here, Emil does not have to worry about his vision. The air has never been so peaceful before.

“Leon?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Back at school, when I was asking why you were being so nice to me, I really did want to know why it was you of all people. So…what I’m saying is…can you tell me why you’re doing this?”

“About hanging out with you?”

Emil silently nods.

Leon begins swinging his arm around, the one on Emil’s side, his hand now swaying back and forth along with him. “It’s like…” He clicks his tongue. “How do I put it? I’m sort of like you in a sense, so I know where you’re coming from.”

This puzzles Emil. “I thought you said you can’t see them.”

“I can’t, but that’s the thing. You know how Arthur can see them? _Everyone_ on his side of the family can see them, more or less. All my uncles on that side can see them, but unlike you, they _like_ being able to see them. They’re always telling me what I’m missing out on and what kinds of interesting stories and magic these unicorns and faeries and old war soldiers have to share.

“Whenever I’m around, everything, like, disappears. Like you, they stop seeing everything, and to them, that makes them feel normal, that they weren’t special anymore. So as you can imagine, they didn’t like me being there. It’s different knowing you _don’t_ want to see them. I never thought I’d find someone who felt that way. Call me selfish if you want, but _I_ feel special when I’m with you. I feel like being here is helping someone.”

Maybe that’s why Lukas didn’t look so happy when Leon was in the basement yesterday, Emil deduces.

Leon laughs. “That sounds stupid, I know.”

“No,” Emil says. “It’s not. I’m grateful I met someone like you. I didn’t think it was possible to stop seeing them. It’s calmer this way…”

Leon smiles. “That’s cool. I never thought it was possible to find someone who didn’t want to see all that supernatural magic crap.”

Emil lightly laughs. Alongside Leon, it is easy to breath and focus on what’s in front of him—or beside him.

They come to the end of the street where an old rope fence bars the way into the woods. As coincidence will have it, this is the exact route Emil takes to find some alone time. “I know this place.”

“What was that?”

“I come here sometimes to think. There aren’t many of them here except the animals, but they aren’t a problem.”

Leon smirks. “I don’t know why there’d be animal spirits running around. I thought they were supposed to live simple lives.” Emil doesn’t know an intelligent response to this statement, so he shrugs it off. “Do you wanna look around, Ice?”

“Hmm?” Emil turns.

“The woods. You said you come here. Is there something interesting in there?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. It’s quiet is all.” He squeezes Leon’s hand. “But I know the way through. We can reach the main town if we keep walking.”

Leon thinks on it and pauses briefly to check his phone. “It’s still morning. We’ve got plenty of daylight to kill. You up for going into town? We can figure out what to do when we get there.”

For a day of skipping school, it sounds harmless enough. Emil agrees. “Let’s go.” He is about to take the lead when he feels a tug pulling him back. He is still holding Leon’s hand. Perhaps he feels it out of safety or reassurance, or perhaps he prefers the comfort of keeping someone like this close; whatever the reason, he stares straight into his eyes and asks for Leon’s permission. “Leon, if it’s alright with you…may I hold your hand until we get there?” That is all he can muster before shying away. “Sorry,” he grumbles. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s fine,” Leon smiles and follows Emil side by side. “We won’t get lost this way. By the way, are these woods thick? Like, are they dark at all or…?”

Emil ponders this and cannot recall an instance when the darkness particularly bothered him. “I don’t believe so, no. It may be overcast, but we’ll still be able to see.” He pauses. “Why?”

“No reason,” Leon dismisses him. “Just asking.”

Emil hums and focuses instead on the thin pathway ahead. He has walked here enough times to create a small trodden trail. A narrow path can be spotted despite the fallen leaves covering most of the hardened soil. Never did he think he would ever share this path with someone else, let alone someone like Leon.

“Hey, Leon?”

“Yeah, Ice?”

He stares straight ahead, fearing one glance into Leon’s golden eyes will render him speechless. “…Do you suppose we could be friends?”

After building up the courage to ask that question, he looks to Leon for any trace of expression. From the corner of his eye, he can see that the look on his face displays surprise, but it is more in a sense that he didn’t expect to be granted such an offer. He looks… _flattered_.

“Of course.” He is smiling. “Congratulations, Ice: you’re my first friend in this little town. Arthur’ll be so proud.”

Emil is taken aback. “Eh? But you looked so popular in class yesterday.”

Leon smirks. “Ice, when you live in a crowded place like Hong Kong long enough, you’ll know who’s kissing up and who legitimately wants companionship. You’ve been lonely, haven’t you?”

It is true. Hearing those words from Leon set into his mind. It was always true. He knew it all along. Emil’s heart beats a little faster. “Stupid…” he brings himself to laugh as his face grows hot. “I’m stupid. I thought I was done for the day.” He hiccups and lowers his head, not wanting Leon to see him crying again.

Thankfully Leon waits and does not say a thing. He gives him some space and lets him pour out his emotions. All the while, Leon’s fingers are wrapped around Emil’s hand.

When Emil finishes, they resume their trip through the woods. His heart has not calmed down. The fact that he has someone he can share his time with fills him with feelings he cannot describe. He needs reassurance. He wants to hear it from Leon. “It’s official then?” he looks piningly at Leon, whose sharp golden eyes cast a bold contrast with his facial features. “We’re friends?”

Leon smiles as he returns Emil’s gaze, admiring his soft shade of lavender irises in contrast to his snowy white hair. This might just work out. In response, he echoes Emil’s words.

“Yep. We’re friends.”


	3. Third Act

Beyond the dusty shelves and layers of faded records, two teenagers flip through a certain category of tapes for anything of interest. Finally, the more familiar of the two comes across one title whose bizarre title makes the other furrow his brow.

_“Master of Cracked Fingers?”_

Leon is grinning ear to ear. “It’s a classic Jackie Chan film.” His face falls when he sees the unfazed Emil. “You know, Jackie Chan, the famous martial arts movie star from Hong Kong?” Emil still draws a blank. “Ice, you’re kidding, right? Jackie Chan. Okay, what about Bruce Lee?”

Emil’s expression remains. “I don’t know who either of those guys are.”

His friend looks genuinely hurt. “Ice—”

“Give me a break, Leon!” Emil whispers in case the cashier is listening. “I’ve been caught up with supernatural crap all my life. Do you think I had time for watching old martial arts movies?”

Leon looks crushed and nowhere near ready to forgive his friend for lacking movie trivia, but he slips the old movie cassette off the shelf and takes it to the front counter. After he pays for the supposed classic, he walks out with Emil. The streets outside are nearly barren with everyone either going to work or attending school. It would typically be eerie being alone in the middle of town, but Leon’s presence dispels Emil’s visions to a comforting degree.

“It’s cold here,” Leon comments, his eyes wandering ahead to the edge of the street. “Is it always like this in this town?”

Emil cracks a smile. “You _would_ ask me that. It’s fine right now.” He pauses and remembers someone else who made such a comment, although it was more puzzling in the other case. “Is there anywhere else you want to go?”

“Let’s wander around,” Leon suggests. Before starting off, he grabs ahold of Emil’s hand and takes out his phone. From the corner of Emil’s eye, he can catch him recording the town on his screen.

Their wandering leads them to a large square in the center of the main town where a single broken fountain rests. Worn gray stone paints an image of a weeping woman covering her eyes with a sorrowful expression. The folds on her dress swirl down and guide spectators to the rounded base where water should flow; however, the well is dry, and the weathered stains crust over with a fine layer of limestone powder.

Emil holds himself back from approaching the square. Though he has not been here since coming to this town, the fountain’s presence reminds him only too well of those olds times.

Leon seems to sense his uneasiness since he leans towards him and points his phone in his face. “Something wrong, Ice?”

He bites his lower lip. “It’s creepy.”

“Mm,” Leon hums in agreement. “D’you guys have a legend about this? Seems like this would be the sort of thing to have one. No plaque lying around, though…”

Before answering, Emil puts his hand out and swats down his friend’s arm. “Stop recording.” His eyes wander as if suspecting an eavesdropper. “It’s disrespectful.”

Leon mutters something that sounds like an apology and focuses back on the fountain. “So, like, no legend.”

“This one, no,” Emil responds. “Old thing was busted since we moved here. I think they worked on it once before a special event, but it broke right after. Something about the water being bad…” He shudders. A stray wind howls through the gaping alleys surrounding the square. Though the supernatural beings are generally passive around him, he has a sinking feeling that something doesn’t want them here.

“Leon…we should go.”

He isn’t sure if his friend can read the situation, yet Leon thankfully stops browsing and heads back the same way they came. They don’t say anything to each other for a while, the silence deafening in contrast to the teacher’s voices they would have been hearing in lecture today. True, Emil needed the air, he acknowledges, but he wonders if they should have come here. Ill memories have resurfaced, and if this is anything like before, they will haunt him until he pushes them into remission.

“Maybe we should head back to your house?” Leon suggests on a whim.

Emil agrees, taking a slightly faster pace to lead the way home. He barely notices it himself, but his hands are shaking. Past the mutely painted buildings and up the hill into the woods, he scans his surroundings as if expecting something to jump out at him.

 _Silly, they never do that without hinting at it,_ he thinks. _Besides, Leon’s here._ To reassure himself, he squeezes his companion’s hand and feels its warmth.

A thought crosses his mind. Had either of them been a girl, it would be easy to justify holding hands in public. Here during the slow hours, it’s fine, but he can’t practice this forever. Leon’s presence is already enough to dispel the visions, and yet…

“You got a key?”

Emil’s head snaps up. He was so lost in thought that he failed to realize they are already home. The familiar blue greyish house greets him in its lumbering state, guarding passage to the graveyard not but a stone’s throw away. “Uh, hang on.” He fishes for his keys and brings them out to the single lock. Since visitors and solicitors rarely come over, there’s hardly a reason to have tight security. Even with the expensive machines in the basement, thieves will not get very far transporting them to somewhere secluded.

When he opens the door, the first thing he notices is that Lukas’ outdoor shoes are missing. “His boots are gone…” he says aloud, prompting Leon’s ears to perk up.

“You say something?”

Emil turns his body outside. “I think my brother’s in the graveyard. Maybe Arthur’s with him?” He looks back to the front porch. “I don’t see another pair of shoes.”

Leon makes a face. “What’re they doing in the graveyard? Grave robbing?”

“We’re not thieves,” Emil disapprovingly frowns. “Sometimes there are these—”

He holds out his hands in a spherical formation.

“—bubbles that I used to help catch for analysis. If we collect enough in the same area, we can scan for information in a captured timeline…” His voice trails off. “This doesn’t make any sense to you, does it?”

Leon’s face is, indeed, drawing a blank.

“That’s okay. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too.”

“But that means you can catch them?”

Emil turns to Leon.

“You can _catch_ them,” Leon repeats, “as in, you can physically interact with them.”

“Right. It’s why I don’t see things floating around like crazy; it’s because they still have concepts of the physics in the living world.” He makes an example of himself by walking forward and out of the porch. They might as well save time by going towards the graveyard. “Right now we’re waking, correct?”

Leon gives his demonstrating friend a skeptical look before nodding.

“We know we’re able to walk because gravity lets us stay on the ground without floating away. I push one foot in front of the other and pull myself forward.” Left, right, left, right.

“Alright, I get it,” Leon butts in. “So the point is, those behaviors stick with the afterlife.”

Relieved that he understood it so quickly, Emil wraps up with, “And that’s why if they see the living interacting with them in a physical sense, they tend to respond as if we’re on the same plane of life or death.” He sighs. “Lukas did a lot of explaining back when he first got me into helping him.”

“When did you decide you didn’t want to help him?” Leon asks. “Like, the thing about lying that you couldn’t see them anymore.”

Emil sighs. “I got tired of it. I wanted to leave parts of my experiences with _them_ behind. A lot of it had to do with me wanting to grow out of it.”

Leon raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like a childish ability to have.”

“No,” he admits, “but there’s a part of it that seems naïve to hang onto.” He bites his lip. “You should know. Even with there being people who study this stuff and get paid for it, the majority of the world doesn’t know what’s going on. It’s more of a full-time hobby that you get paid enough to live by.”

“And what’s wrong with getting paid for a hobby?

Another sigh. “Like I said, there’s nothing to show for it. Besides, you already heard about what my classmates said about me and Lukas.”

Leon falls silent as if apologizing in his own way. Not wanting to carry on the conversation, he trudges through the growing brambles and weeds until they reach the rusty gate into the graveyard.

Rarely does the communal site receive visitors, as hinted by the overgrowth of weeds, dust, and dying flowers paced alongside plaques. The dates on the gravestones mark ancient deaths, old enough to be considered relics. Emil has never seen anyone being put into the ground since moving here, and he is certain he wouldn’t mind keeping it that way.

As he assumed, there are people in the graveyard. The sight is as odd as described: two adults armed with large silken netted bags and butterfly nets, swinging wildly and blindly at nothing but thin air. That is what any normal observer would see, and it is what Emil also sees thanks to his snickering companion.

“What the fuck. I’ve gotta record this.” Leon holds out his phone and starts recording his guardian arcing his arm and doing a spectacular dive for a rock on the ground. Somewhere in the chaos, Emil thinks he hears a soft “Yes!” as Arthur stands back up with a fist tightened firmly around the ring of his net.

“I thought this was what they were doing,” Emil glumly comments and walks hesitantly over.

Leon is still recording. “Will I see anything on playback?”

“Nope. They’ve studied that enough to know.”

“Aw. But hey, if I go closer, will they, you know…?”

Emil gives it a thought. “Go away? Maybe. I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”

“Then what are we supposed to do, Ice? Just watch them until they finish catching all the air they need?”

“No,” he frowns. “You can think of something better than that.” But before Leon can answer, Lukas finally stops waving his arms and stares right at his little brother.

“Emil Steilsson, what are you doing here?”

 _Uh-oh. Full name._ Lukas only uses it when he is not in a playing mood. “Um, I…we—”

“We ditched,” Leon interrupts before any excuse leaves Emil’s mouth.

Lukas is unimpressed. Arthur, who has since looked over, appears plainly disappointed as if this has happened before. “When I told you to play with him, I didn’t mean dismiss your education and do it. And you.” He points a sharp finger in Leon’s direction. “Stop right there. You’re interrupting our research.” Leon stays put.

It is at this time Arthur places the invisible object into a contraption and looks back at his son. “Leon, do you think you can stay put right over there? You know what will happen.”

Leon doesn’t budge. “You even gonna say something about us being here?”

“Later, perhaps, but we’re busy now. If you could just—”

“Actually, hold on a moment,” Lukas stops him with an extended hand. “This is a perfect opportunity to find out whether or not your kid’s presence makes the spirits disappear altogether or make them vanish from our sight.” He points to Leon. “Kid, when I give the signal, take a step closer.”

When Emil looks to Leon, he spies a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Just as he expects, the same annoyance plays out in his tone of voice. “I have a name, you know. And I’m not your assistant, here—Arthur is.”

Arthur, however, is leaning towards Lukas’ suggestion. “Leon, we can get some valuable research done.” He muses to himself. “Why didn’t I think of this before? It was so simple, that I never could have thought…Never mind. This is wonderful. Wait a moment, please. Let me get my notes ready.” He brings out a worn hardcover notebook from a bag set on the ground nearby complete with a pen at the ready. Then, he looks excitedly over to his coworker and back to his son.

Holding out his pen in front of him as an artist would a paintbrush, Arthur starts estimating the distance between him and Leon. “From here, I’d say he’s about…nine meters away from us. The spirits are still visible, here and beyond. If he moves closer to us, do we lose sight of the spirits further out as well as the ones closer to us?”

 _Oh my gods…_ Emil wants nothing more than to wander away from this foolish research project, but he knows if he moves away from Leon at a certain distance, he will see them, too. He doesn’t know the exact distance he needs to be next to his friend to dispel his ill ability, though he has an idea of his visual range: once close enough to Leon, any visions dispel completely, no matter how close or far they might be. It’s as if they never existed at all.

Until Emil can explain himself to his brother, the research continues for another good half an hour before they reach a solid conclusion. “It seems the ability to interact and see the paranormal completely dispels within approximately one meter,” Arthur concludes. “A little further than that, and the temperature decreases at a gradual rate of around one Celsius per additional meter taken until a stable temperature is reached—of course, given that it’s room temperature from the get-go.

“Unfortunately, we’ve never been able to record the exact temperature we experience when interacting with paranormal beings. Thermometers aren’t exactly able to feel spirits, as far as we know; it simply feels colder to people like us.”

Leon clears his throat while the two are in the middle of jotting more notes down. Arthur gives a small apologetic glance at him as if telepathically saying, “Sorry, I’ll be done soon.”

Emil, on the other hand, apologizes aloud. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Before Leon can respond, Lukas overhears them and butts in. “My little brother’s right. We shouldn’t have brought you into our research while you two were still _supposed to be at school_.” Emil swallows. “But I digress. With all the information gathered, we might be able to do something with this. Something down the road, perhaps…” He looks at his phone. “It’s lunchtime. Since you two aren’t at school, you’re free to eat lunch here. Ice, what do you want me to make for you?”

“I can make my own lunch, thank you,” Emil pouts. He turns heel and starts leaving when the adults in the graveyard hold Leon back.

“Ah, stay with us a moment, will you?” Lukas airily speaks to Leon. “My brother claims he’s old enough to go on his own, so stay here so we can do a few more rounds of testing, just to be sure.”

Leon darkly mutters a curse but stays, possibly at the expense of being grounded or forced to eat his foster father’s cooking for lunch. Emil in the meantime thinks he’s been around his newly made friend long enough for one morning and heads back to the house to fix a snack. As Lukas and Arthur’s research concludes, the temperature starts dropping barely two steps away from Leon and continues to fall.

 _Stupid cold…_ He begins to shiver. In case Lukas is still watching, he resists the urge to bundle up in his coat and holds off until he can get to the house.

Once inside, he quickly goes to the thermostat and reads the temperature. _It should be a sauna in here, alright,_ he sighs and taps the plastic casing before going to the kitchen. With Leon still in the cemetery, they start to appear again: the blind soldier, the scuttling mice, and the soft audible banging somewhere in the pantry. It should be normal, Emil knows, but he misses their absence. It was more peaceful and warmer.

He shakes his head. He cannot live with Leon forever. It was fortunate enough that Leon even let him stay so close for that long, let alone allowing him to hold his hand.

Emil lightly slaps his cheek. “What in gods’ names are you thinking?” he sharply whispers into the empty space.

“You talking to me or someone else?”

Emil whips his head around at the sound of his brother’s voice. He manages to open his mouth and attempts to explain himself when Lukas pulls something from behind his back and tells him, “Catch.”

A ghostly orb goes flying through the air straight at Emil’s head. He snaps his hands out by reflex and shuts his eyes as he successfully grabs ahold of the wispy object. Icy and pulsating with a mysterious light, it calmly floats in his hands before realizing it can slip and faze through solid objects. Emil gasps as the ghostly orb wiggles out of his fingers and drops onto the ground, leaving a chilling touch behind.

“I knew it,” Lukas flatly says, his tone unimpressed.

Realizing what has happened, Emil struggles to convey himself. “Lukas, I just wanted to be normal. If you heard what those guys said at school—”

“You were being bullied, weren’t you?”

Emil freezes.

“That’s why you ditched today.” He breathes a heavy sigh. “That Leon kid figured it out before I did. So you never stopped seeing them. Why were you pretending, Ice?”

His voice shakes. “You should know why. The ghosts, the cold, the people treating us like freaks, _all of it._ I’m not like you. I’ve never been like you. Why bother understanding what you can’t bring back?”

Lukas’ voice seizes up like frostbitten air. His nails dig into his crossed arms. “We all have our different reasons. I’ve already told you, if I—”

_“Mathias isn’t coming back!”_ he finally snaps. His temper runs like a dam, a river of words pouring in quivering flows. “No matter how much you want to see him, he’s not here. You’ve tried and failed.”

“Ice.” The air turns cold. “Go to your room.”

Emil steadies his breath. “No.”

“Ice…you are treading through some dangerous waters here.”

He stands his ground. “Lukas, you can’t treat me like a child forever.”

“Oh? And if you’re not a child, then why can’t you live with what you see every single day? You’re running away.”

“Says the person who won’t let go of Mathias!” Emil understands that saying this will run their argument into a death spiral of pointing and faulting the other. But he’s had enough. Putting up with the ridicule and visions has driven him to a breaking point. “You’ve let our parents move on, so why won’t you believe Mathias did, too?”

Lukas’ expression darkens. “You’re _really_ pushing it, Emil. Not another word on that subject, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Deep down, Emil knows his brother will do little to punish him—he’s all he has left in the world of the living. However, he also knows pushing things will drive a rift between them. He doesn’t want to stay this way, yet he wishes things would move forward. It is already too late. What’s done has been done.

“I’m sorry,” he softly apologizes.

For what feels like an eternity, the brothers stay in silent stalemate, staring at each other and trying to read the other’s emotions. Some wisps float by, and the orbs Lukas captured earlier have started to discover their ability to faze through solid objects. While some escape, Arthur enters through the front door with a disgruntled Leon trailing behind.

“I got the last of them, Bondevik,” Arthur lets out a weary sigh and sets a cage of wispy orbs down. “Let me just give you the data we recorded, and I’ll be out of your hair. We have some things we need to discuss back at home.” By “we,” Emil suspects he means Leon and himself. “Anyway, where do you want these?”

“You can set them in the basement,” Lukas tells his coworker without taking his attention off of his brother.

All the while, as Arthur finishes up with his work, Leon begins catching the atmosphere. The thermostat reads far above room temperature, but the space in between the brothers is as frigid as ice. He only needs a split second of a glance before grasping the situation.

“Um,” he speaks out, “Mr. Bondevik sir, this might be, like, totally out of nowhere, but do you think it’s okay for your brother to stay at my place for the night?”

Emil blinks. “Wh—?” 

“I know you’re probably wondering why, so I’ll just say that I think everyone here can use some room to breathe for a bit—that and we can work together on our project we got from school yesterday. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

 _It’s not going to work_ , Emil thinks. _Lukas never agrees to this type of crap. Even if he did, why now of all times?_

Before Lukas can give his absolute refusal, Arthur returns from the basement with his things gathered. “Finished up. Leon, ready to go home?”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, Arthur, can Emil stay over tonight?”

“Now?” his father stares. “But didn’t we just have an agreement?”

“The agreement was for me, not him,” Leon gestures towards Emil. “Besides, when was the last time we had any real visitors?”

Arthur furrows his eyebrows, still unsure about the proposition. He looks to Emil and then to Lukas and asks for his permission.

“I could do with some time to myself for a bit,” Lukas responds in a stiff, robotic voice. His eyes remain fixed on Emil for a time, and then he shifts his attention to the basement which he heads down.

Seeing this as a “Yes,” Emil hurries up his room, packs a day’s worth of clothes and schoolwork, and flies down the stairs in minutes. His relief washes over him when he doesn’t see his brother standing at the base of the stairs. He doesn’t even need to say goodbye.

“You have everything?” Arthur asks before Emil locks the door.

“I’m sure. I’ll only be gone a day, honestly. It’s just to get my mind off of some things.” He takes a deep breath and clicks the lock. “Thank you for letting me come with you, Mr. Kirkland.”

“I should let you know it’s not going to be much,” Arthur says with a bashful smile. He means to lead the way, but Leon is already three paces ahead. “We just moved in, so not everything is in its proper place.”

To be polite, Emil asks, “Do you need any help moving things?”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Arthur declines. “You’re a guest. I shouldn’t have to make you do anything.”

Leon laughs from up ahead and looks back. “You know, if you met my other dad, he’d be cooking you a banquet by now. Not this guy. He can’t cook a pea without setting it on fire.”

Arthur clears his throat. “That’s far from the truth, but considering we’ve been in mutual agreement as of today, I think Leon will be more than happy to do the cooking.”

“That’s…fine.” Emil hasn’t been feeling hungry since the fight with his brother. He said some horrible things, berated Lukas’ profession, and brought up someone whose name should have been long passed on. He makes a mental note to apologize properly to Lukas when he goes home.

In the meantime, the walk to Leon and Arthur’s house does not take very long. Rather than the intimidating faded blue mini-mansion he has long been greeted to, Leon and Arthur’s residence is a cozy and warm single-story house with a salmon-pink roof and a new coat of inviting yellow, the kind of soft yellow used for decorating Easter eggs. Even the lawn is alive with a vivid shade of green that makes the shabby sticklings of grass back home pale in comparison (although Emil can do without the out-of-place lawn gnomes dotting the shrubs).

Leon opens the door, popping off his shoes and kicking them into the base of the shoe rack before turning back to Emil. “Eyebrows doesn’t mind guests wearing their shoes around here, but just take your shoes off. You guys do that back home anyway, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emil replies, wondering why it would be such a big deal in this house. The reason he takes them off back home is because the floorboards might give way under the sharp heavy soles of their shoes. At least there are slippers here, so he fits himself into a pair and begins studying his surroundings.

It is as Arthur mentioned: the house is still in the settling phase with boxes stacked in corners and furniture still cellophane-wrapped. The house, itself, looks like it was previously lived in, and there is a faint scent of pesticide lingering in the air, making Emil wonder if it had to be bug-bombed beforehand. Leon gives him a quick tour of the place, showing him where all the bathrooms are, the occupied bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living area.

“Nothing fancy going on with the backyard yet,” Leon says as he shuts the blinds to the window outside. “You should’ve seen the house back in London; it was this small-ass patch of grass with so many stupid gnomes and flamingos.” He wrinkles his nose. “I mean, like, flamingos don’t even live in the U.K.”

Furrowing his brow, Emil mentally leafs through his memories. “I don’t remember seeing any lawn flamingos out there.”

“That’s because I blew them up and most of Dad’s gnomes with firecrackers,” Leon mischievously grins.

“Oh.”

“Enough of that, do you wanna see my room?”

“Sure.”

Leon leads the way to the back corner of the house where the only door with some decorative flare rests. He shelves his newly bought _Master of Cracked Fingers_ cassette tape with a growing collection of what Emil assumes to be old-school martial arts films. “Mind the mess, I’m still unpacking. It’s the only room not overrun by boxes, though, so you’ll have to share it with me.” Emil is perfectly fine with that.

Inside Leon’s room are framed posters lining the walls. Some are from movies, some are of celebrities, and others look to be from video games printed in English and Chinese. The rest of the room is rather simple: a bed, a desk, a small nightstand, a drawer, and just enough room for a small sofa. Leon plops himself down on his sofa and pats the cushion beside him, prompting Emil to take a seat.

“So, Ice…” He stretches and faces Emil. “Was anything going on back at your house worth sharing with me?”

Emil sighs. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

“Is it something me or my dad can do anything about?”

“I’m not sure my brother’s ready to open himself to Arthur. As for you, I think you’ll do more damage than good.”

Leon narrows his eyes. “Ice, whatever the heck it is, it’s eating you and your brother up. Just tell me what went on in there.”

Laying back, he exhales. “Pushy, aren’t you?” He ponders his thoughts and folds his hands. “But I guess it’ll come out sooner or later…

“My brother’s research involves looking into the window of the afterlife. Part of it has to do with trying to get ‘normal’ people to see the things that we do, but what he really wants to do is to look into the ‘beyond.’”

“What, like Heaven?”

Emil shrugs. “Whatever’s on the other side, he wants to see into it. You see…my brother had someone important to him. A friend. Maybe something more than that. His name was Mathias. I was young when it happened, but he passed away before his time. Mathias knew about our ability, but he never saw ‘them’ for himself. He was always telling Lukas that maybe he’d be able to help him seem them, too, which is why my brother studies his particular field.

“But my brother was always bothered by something. When Mathias passed away, Lukas always thought he’d see him again somewhere out and about among the rest. He thought Mathias had unfinished business he needed to do, mainly thinking that his unfinished business was tied to being with him.” Emil swallows. “It’s like Lukas _wanted_ Mathias to become a ghost. But he never was. I guess he crossed over to the other side, but my brother still can’t accept that he would leave him behind after everything they had together.”

He looks to Leon who is silent in thought. He has barely known him for two days, but the thought of losing him makes his stomach turn. “It was hard enough watching my brother grieve for the first year. I can’t imagine what would happen if something like that happened to me…”

Leon pats his friend’s head. “You don’t have to worry about me, Ice. I’m not going anywhere.”

Emil flashes an angry look at him. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Because it’s not funny.”

“Sorry,” he lightly apologizes, “I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about me, Ice.”

Taken aback, his cheeks grow hot. “It’s not that! I just feel that if there was someone like that for me, someone like Mathias who I could talk about this ability with…you would be the closest thing to that person.”

Leon falls silent, as does Emil.

His heart hammering, Emil ducks his head and beats himself mentally to the ground. _That wasn’t supposed to come out now or ever! How do I take that back? He must be laughing at me right now!_

“Um, Ice?”

Emil jolts. “Y-Yeah?”

“Do you like being with me?”

If Leon means to joke, it does not show on his face. The urge to remain modest clings to Emil like a pair of arms wrapping around his chest. “Yes,” he confesses, though his breath feels constrained. “But I’m not sure what it is. I’ve never had someone like you, and the only reason I’ve been able to is because I can feel normal around you.” He looks to Leon. “Is that okay?”

“What’s okay?”

“For me to treat you like this. I feel drawn to you because I’m not tormented by what I see. If you were anyone else, I might have treated you the same, kept my distance, acted cold towards you…I’m a horrible person.”

Leon chews his lip and looks down in thought before speaking. “So…you’re saying everything we did and all that time you spent with me was because you couldn’t see the ghosts while I was around?”

Emil painfully remains silent.

“Wherever I went and whatever I did was just to use me, is that what you’re saying?” Leon clarifies. “When I got you out of the bunker, were you only happy to see me because that meant not seeing ‘them’ down there?” He pauses only to confront more silence. “Alright, then, tell me something, Ice: if you really feel that way, then why are you acting guilty?”

He slowly moves his gaze to him. “What do you mean?”

“You say you know you’re using me to get rid of your visions, but you say it like it’s a bad thing. You _feel_ bad for saying that. So then, is it really true? Am I that disposable without my ability?”

A tear rolls down Emil’s cheek. It was _never_ true. The emotions he feels have always been real. Leon did not have to do anything for him. It was all for him. “I’m sorry.” He hiccups. “I didn’t mean it. I thought I was always burdening you, but I kept doing it. Don’t you care? You have to, don’t you?”

“Ice, I’ve never minded,” Leon says in a surprisingly forgiving tone. “That’s just something friends do.” He keeps quiet while Emil empties his emotions. He suspects they were kept inside him for far too long. He needs this.

“Here.” He hands over a tissue box. “I can’t have your brother asking why you looked like you were crying so much when you go home.”

Emil finds it in himself to laugh in between tears. “He would ask about that.” He takes a handful of tissues and dries his eyes. “You know, Leon…I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Leon smiles. “Same.”

The rest of the afternoon through the evening goes over smoothly enough. Arthur, being lost in his recent findings, is busy working on publishing a research article. Leon, as per a mutual agreement between his father and himself, does all the cooking for dinner. It’s surprising how many dishes he can conjure in a single night and with one pair of hands. Emil doesn’t even need to offer assistance; Leon’s fluidity and well-versed knowledge in the culinary arts produces an artful assortment of dishes for his guest.

“How’s the food?” Leon asks from across the table.

“It’s really good,” Emil humbly smiles. “You eat like this every day?”

“Not all the time, no,” his friend laughs. “It’s pretty much only for tonight since you’re a guest. Plus, we actually filled the fridge because we moved in.”

Emil takes a sip of tea. “Does your father ever see things in this house when you’re around?”

“Sometimes, as a matter of fact,” Leon says. “It’s one of the reasons why he picked this house. My room’s just far enough from his office, so he has no trouble seeing them.”

“…Does that ever bother you?”

“What does?”

“Knowing that you can’t be around because you’re interfering with his work.”

Leon thinks on it for a whole amount of two seconds before shrugging. “Nah, it’s like how a kid’s father wouldn’t want him going to work with him if he was a police officer, right?”

“Well, that’s different. I mean, you being there actively dispels his ability to do his job. It’s not even a choice of whether he wants you there or not; your father can’t work when you’re close to him.”

Unaffected, Leon cracks a smile. “Arthur’s a quirky guy, Ice. He’s sort of, like, you know, the kind of guy that can get immersed in his fascinations whether somethings barring him or not. And if you’re wondering if that’s put anything between us, we’ve just learned to live with it. His family doesn’t hate me for it, so to speak, and my dad’s job puts food on our plates and all that. Who am I to complain?”

Emil lightly laughs. “Maybe it’s because I’ve had a different way of thinking than you.” He lowers his head. “I’d take it too personally.”

“But you don’t drive ghosts away; you see them,” Leon points out. “And because of your way of thinking, you’re able to tolerate me, aren’t you?”

He smiles at how funny it all is, that his ability would grant him this kind of friendship. “I suppose.”

By the time Arthur comes out of his office, Leon and Emil are nearly finished with their homework. Fortunately, Leon made connections with his classmates the day before and was able to ask his fellow students for the homework assignments they missed.

Emil hates to admit it, but Leon wasn’t lying about his claim of getting good grades. He wonders if it has anything to do with his Asian background or if he has an innate ability to study well.

“See, like, if you apply this property here, you should be able to cancel out the X’s on this side and solve for the other side to get the answer I got.” Leon holds out his paper and taps the equation on Emil’s homework.

Sighing, Emil finished the last problem and flops on the sofa. “Are all Asians like this with their studies?”

“Nope,” he says quite as-a-matter-of-factly. “Good job, Ice. You wanna shower first or me?”

Before Emil can answer, his cell phone rings in a classic rhythmical chime. Knowing how few numbers he has in his phone, it can only be one person calling him at this hour.

“You go first,” he tells Leon. “It’s my brother.”

Leon lowly whistles. “Alright. I’ll get out of your way.” He picks up some things and leaves Emil alone in the bedroom.

Taking a breather, Emil waits for the phone to ring one more time before picking up. “Hello?”

“Hello, Ice,” comes the reply. His brother sounds worn and exhausted as if having a mental battle with his thoughts. When he speaks, Emil realizes just how much emotional stress he had been undergoing these past few years. Lukas is not normally one to convey himself properly, but the tone he uses, while weary, is more mature and familial than he has heard in ages. “Just checking to see how you’re doing, little brother.”

Emil’s mouth forces itself into a smile as if trying to convince his brother of something he cannot see, perhaps even to convince himself. “Everything’s fine over here, Lukas. Leon helped me with my homework and cooked dinner.”

“It was edible, I hope?” Lukas speaks before he says anymore. “The smells coming from Arthur’s lunch pail have told me about his tastes…or lack thereof.”

Emil finds himself chuckling. “No, it’s not…It’s all edible. Really good, actually.”

He hears Lukas pause. “You sound well. Did you get enough to eat?”

“Yes.”

“And, you talked with Leon, I take it.”

“…Yes.”

“He seems to be a good kid. It’s good that you two get along.” He pauses again. “Ice, about today…I’m sorry.

“I know it’s been hard enough with only me being there for you, and I wish I saw the signs earlier. I’ve been…distracted. I’ve given it some thought. I hope you know how much…” His voice fades. Emil’s heart tightens. It’s been hard for Lukas to admit any of it, let alone accept it. A small thread of hope brings him to think that maybe things will start changing. But his brother is a stubborn and reserved man. It wouldn’t be surprising if he took it one step at a time—if at all.

For a brief moment, nothing sounds on the other end. Emil holds his breath and listens, waiting for any sign of life on the line. Finally, curiosity overcomes him, and he speaks his brother’s name. “Lukas, are you…?”

“…Ice,” Lukas at last says, however in a stilted tone. Emil waits and waits until he nearly pops from holding his breath in. And at the end of his limit, his brother mutters, “Never mind. I’m no good at this. I’ll…see you tomorrow.”

Emil blinks. The phone blares a dial tone, but his breath is swollen in his lungs. If there was something he wanted to say, it is too late.

After a while, Leon comes in, hair slightly wet but otherwise, he looks as stylish as ever. “Didn’t take too long, did I?”

It takes Emil a moment to register that his friend is speaking to him. His mind is swimming in thoughts and questions about why his brother acted so aloof, never mind his already awkward nature. It had to have been hard for him to even make the phone call, he knows. Reaching out, for the two of them, has never been easy.

“Um…earth to Ice?” Leon snaps his fingers in front of him.

“Huh!” he snaps up. “S-Sorry. I’ll go now.” He gathers his change of clothes and a towel and heads for the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom is still a work in progress with decoration boxes stacked outside, but it is cleaner than most of the rooms. He showers and returns to Leon’s room where the sofa has a blanket and a pillow provided.

“Sorry about sharing the place,” Leon apologizes. “The other rooms are being used as storage, and we don’t get many visitors anyway.” He scoffs. “I totally can see why no one would come here.” He takes a look at his guest. “Do you snore?”

Emil pauses. “What?”

“Oh gosh, please don’t tell me you snore, Ice.”

He frowns. “I don’t know. Lukas and I’ve never shared a room like this.”

Leon doesn’t look convinced. “You didn’t go on trips together when you were younger? No camping, hotels, that sort of thing to find out?”

“Is it that big a deal?”

“Well, no,” he says, but his skepticism says otherwise. “I will say that I have bad experiences with Arthur’s side of the family. They’re lawnmowers when it comes to zonking out.”

Emil sighs and prepares his blanket. “Sorry in advance, then?”

“Future apology accepted,” Leon chuckles. “You ready?” Emil hums in confirmation, and his host goes to the light switch and flicks it off.

Despite this, there is a noticeable amount of small light sources littered around his room: a glowing clock, the pulsating glow of his laptop, a nightlight, and, to Emil’s surprise, glow-in-the-dark coating on some of his posters, specifically the video game ones.

“Leon, can I ask you something? Not to be weird or anything, but do you always sleep with all these little lights in your room?”

“Yeah.”

He chews his lower lip. “Can I ask why?”

“It reminds me of home,” Leon stifles a yawn.

Emil furrows his brow and cranes his neck to his friend. “Which home?”

“Hong Kong,” he sleepily answers.

“Did you like it back there?”

He hears a shuffling noise as if Leon rolled over to meet his gaze. Sure enough, when he checks, Leon’s golden eyes are glowing in the nightlights. “Of course I like it. It has _everything_. Cheap good food, tall buildings, expensive real estate, and anything you want to buy. Name it, and it’s yours. You see all kinds of people, learn the curves of the streets…” He lets out an exhilarated sigh. “And the _lights_. People can say whatever they want about stars and light pollution; the city lights are the real deal. They come in all sorts of colors. It’s hard to feel lonely without them.”

Emil blinks, recalling a time when he tried to drive the visions away with nightlights and flashlights. He was never alone, instead having to live though nights of wisps staring blankly into warming lightbulbs or the eyes of a frightened, hopeless child. It is true that he cannot escape his visions even in the light’s safety, but even he will admit that at least he can see what is around him with certainty. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s the unknown that frightens him the most.

Suddenly, Leon clears his throat and leans towards Emil. “Hey, Ice, you remember how our guardians were saying something about the distance between me and someone who can see your kinda stuff?”

“You mean the part about the visions going away after some distance?”

“Yeah, that,” Leon smiles. “I thought it was interesting how it takes less than a meter. We were always around that range, weren’t we?”

Thank goodness the nightlights are dim enough because Emil is certain he is blushing. Still, he can’t help saying something about it, considering Leon thought to mention it. “I suppose. It’s funny. I didn’t notice anything else because we were always so close.”

He catches Leon staring in the darkness. “So how are you holding up now?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re not a meter apart,” Leon points out. “It’s a little more than that.”

Emil smiles. “I didn’t notice.”

“Why’s that?”

“It doesn’t feel cold. I’m not searching for them.” His face flushes with color when he mentions, “Maybe it’s you.”

Leon smiles back. “Maybe it is.” Then, he turns over and adjusts his pillow. “G’night, Ice. I think we’ve gotta explain ourselves to the teachers in the morning. Oh, and we need to think of a way to create a project, so your brother doesn’t find out I was lying.”

He chuckles. “Right…Good night, Leon.” He takes one last look at Leon before making himself more comfortable. A feeling washes over him like a tiny miracle. He feels _warm_. Like a little candle in the darkness, his friend’s presence makes it so easy to accept the world he has been denied of. Being greater than a meter apart is acceptable as long as he knows he’s there. The warmth he feels is of more than one kind, and he is perfectly fine with that.


	4. Fourth Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I'm late! Ha ha I tried to replicate my old style and sprinkle in "teenage prose," but...

Emil didn’t snore. If he had, Leon would have told him sometime in the night, he was certain of it. He wakes refreshed and alone in the cozy bedroom, surrounded by unfamiliar posters and racks of games and video tapes. The smell of this space is different. There are spices he doesn’t remember, a subtle musk of something herbal. Tea?

 _That’s right. I’m in Leon’s house._ He rises from the sofa and looks around. Leon is nowhere to be found. He glances at his phone. The clock reads six fifty-five, five minutes before his alarm is supposed to go off. He turns it off and begins to wonder. Shouldn’t Leon have had an alarm, too? How come he didn’t hear one go off?

Letting out a low yawn, he throws the covers off and takes some of his clothes and toiletries. He heads out the room and into the hall to the bathroom. There are soft sounds of something sizzling off at the end closest to the kitchen. Something smells delicious. His stomach growling, he hurries and disappears into the bathroom to wash up and prepare for school.

Arthur is sitting alert yet calm at the dining table when Emil steps into the kitchen. “Good morning, Emil,” he greets him with a short smile. He has a pot of tea set in the middle of the table, vintage china by the look of it. Emil wonders if it’s a relic from when he used to be with Leon’s other father.

“Good morning, Mr. Kirkland,” he says back. He sees Leon pouring something on what look like bowls of white soup. “Morning, Leon,” he calls to him.

“Hey,” his friend beams. He hasn’t dressed yet. His loosely fitted sleepwear from the night before make him look strikingly informal compared to Arthur who is dressed in a neat olive yellow sweater with a dress shirt and tie combination underneath. He is even reading the news on a laptop, implying his day has more or less already begun. “Thought I’d let you sleep in while I prepared breakfast,” Leon says, bringing a plate of toast over. He swings around and comes back with three plates of eggs and salted pork. The last thing he brings is the large bowl of white soup. There are chopped green onions and pieces of yellow strips floating around, when Emil peers closer.

“What is this?” he thinks to ask.

“Never had porridge before? Or congee?” Leon also brings over a plate of something hideously black with gray stuff in the center. It gives off the appearance of jellied eyeballs, the very kind Emil had to dissect in junior high.

“What—?”

“Preserved duck eggs. We also call them century eggs—as in eggs that are a hundred years old, sometimes a thousand.” Leon laughs at Emil’s horrified expression. “Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t be cool to put them in if you haven’t had this before. They’re good. You put them in congee.” He demonstrates by taking a small personal bowl and filling it with the wonder-smelling rice porridge—and dumping three crescent-shaped egg slices in the mix. Arthur is doing his best to hide a bemused face. Emil’s expression contorts when he sees Leon down his congee in five loud gulps, black eggs and all.

“Manners, Leon,” Arthur wrinkles his thick brow with a stern voice. “You really started eating before the guest?”

“You’re welcome for the food, Dad,” Leon throws back, unapologetic.

His father sighs. “Thank you for making breakfast, Leon.”

“Emil, eat,” Leon invites him.

“Thank you,” Emil adds his own gratitude. He takes a bowl and pours in some congee. As a sign of politeness, he takes one of the egg slices and precariously floats it atop the rice clumps. He eats his eggs first before exchanging bites of toast and spoonfuls of congee. The congee on its own is delicious, a hint of salt and the warm spice of ginger and onions giving life to his stomach. It helps that Leon is here to drive the others away. When he finally samples the egg, he finds it a curious flavor. More curious is the texture. It really is jellied, a soft slimy consistency like gelatin, but the taste of salted egg with a hint of sulfur. It’s almost good.

Leon catches him nibbling the egg between mouthfuls of toast. “How ya like it?”

“It’s…not bad,” he admits. “Still looks weird.”

“That’s because of how they’re preserved,” Leon explains. “You wrap eggs in this clay stuff until they turn this color. It takes a while.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Emil manages to finish the egg along with the rest of his breakfast. He’s more than satiated. He wonders if the two eat like this every morning or if it’s because he’s here as a guest.

Arthur gives Emil an empathetic look. “I was intimidated the first time, too, trust me. But it’s one of those things where sometimes looks can be deceiving and all that. I’ve grown to like them.”

Leon rolls his eyes. “You grow to like anything that’s not your own cooking.” He starts to clean up. Emil offers to help until his friend snaps that this is part of his deal with his father. “Sorry Ice, you’re the guest and I said I’d do the housework. Next time you come over, I’ll make macaroni soup.”

 _Macaroni soup…?_ He wonders aghast. But his thoughts are more focused on the other part of Leon’s sentence. _“Next time you come over…”_ He wants there to be a next time.

As Leon finishes up, Emil withdraws into his bedroom and packs the last of his things. He realizes he’ll have to bring his belongings with him to school, seeing as how Leon’s house isn’t on the way back to his own house after school, but with some care, it shouldn’t be a problem lugging around a set of sleeping clothes and toiletries around.

Leon comes in and throws on his school clothes and throws supplies into his bag. Somehow, through the whirlwind chaos, he manages to fit everything into a proper place, and his clothes are presentable and his belongings neat. Emil is almost envious of how well put together he can be.

“Phone, wallet, keys, homework…Ready to go, Ice?” he asks.

“Ready,” he says.

Leon mutters something before they leave. Arthur calls to him just as they are about to head off. “Leon, don’t forget, I’m going to be home late.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll leave you leftovers.”

When they exit the house, Emil looks to his friend. “What do you mean he’s going to be home late? He’s not working with Lukas today?”

Leon shrugs. “He said something last minute about needing to attend a conference of the supernatural or whatever. That means he’s skipping town ‘cause this place doesn’t have a large enough hall. It mustn’t be related to your brother’s side of research if he didn’t say anything to you about going.”

Emil lowers his head. “He never goes to those kinds of things. He’s, well, kind of shy. He’s always been like that. The only time he wasn’t was when…” He catches himself. “Well, you know.”

“Oh.” Leon doesn’t say anything, at least, not until they’re within view of the school gates. “Don’t see anything, do you?”

“No.”

“If there’s anything bothering you, just let me know.”

Emil gives him a look. “At the expense of your growing popularity? I can hold my own.”

“Ice, I don’t care about that,” Leon laughs. “Sure, it’s fun and nice to get in with a crowd, but, like, we share something a little strong than that, don’t you think?”

“Um, sure?” What is that something, he wonders? Friendship? Their abilities? The fact that Leon has seen him cry multiple times in the short course of less than a week?

“Besides, Hong Kong’s way intense-r than this. There’s gangs and cliques and hierarchies that’ll make your head spin. Here, it’s all one sleepy little school. Your reputations hardly go beyond the gates. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I spend a majority of my time _in_ those gates.”

“But I’m with you, too.”

Emil never realized how much support Leon has been offering. Just knowing that he hasn’t thought ill of his situation, that he is even willing to sacrifice better social relations, it all makes Emil so grateful that he had the chance to meet him. “Thank you, Leon.”

* * *

The atmosphere is different than yesterday, when Emil enters the homeroom classroom. Instead of the soft conversations between the students, all eyes are turned away from the pair as they make their way to their desks. By the time Emil sits down and unpacks his bag, he can tell something is wrong.

“Uh,” he leans over to Leon and barely audibly whispers, “you feel that, too?”

Leon snickers in affirmation. He ignores the stagnate air and flips through his phone. Much like yesterday, he gives Emil his space to allow him to ponder his own musings. Emil passes the time before the first bell by reading.

When more students pour in, the staleness of their homeroom dissipates, as everyone forgets about the glaring two in the back of the classroom and instead focus on their own lives. When the bell rings, and the homeroom teacher walks in, however, the feeling returns again. It is as though all eyes are peering at the back, though the students are not facing them. _What’s going on?_ Emil frighteningly wonders.

“Leon? Could you step out with me for a minute?” the teacher calls to the back.

Emil hears a click of his friend’s tongue before he stands up and walks out with the teacher. The rest of the classroom is abuzz when the door shuts.

“Steilsson—” “But he…” “—crazy!” “Not going to do anything about it.” “…funny…” _“Shhhh!”_

The talking stops when the teacher comes back inside, only Leon isn’t there with him. Emil’s heart sinks. Then—

“Mr. Steilsson, do you think you could come with me?”

His heart practically shoots into his throat at the sound of his name. He only manages to stand from his desk because of the fear of knowing what happened to Leon. He wordlessly goes with the teacher out the room and down the hall. He hasn’t been this way for a long time, not since he had to pick up a textbook he accidentally left at home during an open book study session. They are going to the main office.

Leon is sitting at one set of chairs farthest to the wall. There are two boys at the other end, closest to the principal. They are the ones who shoved Emil into the basement, only he could have sworn there were four yesterday. His heartrate races just looking at them.

“Steilsson, I’ve been hearing two sides of the same tale,” the principal says, a passive man past his middle ages. He looks to be nearing his fifties if not already there. “One side says they were relentlessly beaten by your classmate, Leon, here, and the other side claims it was in self-defense. You were mentioned as a third party. Do you have anything to add that might help us get the story straight?”

Emil feels bile in his throat just looking at the delinquents. Without any thought, he tells him his truth. “They shoved me in the basement. I couldn’t get out. They locked it—I _know_ they did. Leon was the one to get me out. I-I don’t know anything about Leon beating up anyone. I wasn’t there, but I can tell you that _they_ hurt _me_.”

The principal folds his hands and looks at him. “Your homeroom teacher marked you and Leon both absent yesterday. What happened after the incident took place?”

“I-I—” Emil looks nervously to Leon. Unable to come up with any logical excuse, he tells the truth again. “We ditched…”

“Ditched? And your guardians were aware of this?”

“We went home, both of us. They know we’re alright, that we’re at school now.”

“When we called both your guardians, neither of the contacts listed would answer. They still haven’t called in to confirm your absence.”

Emil can't blame Lukas for not confirming his absence. A lot happened yesterday, words he wished he did not say. But something still feels off. “Am I missing something, sir? I told you everything I know about yesterday. It’s the truth, honest.”

The principal eyes him with beady eyes hidden behind wrinkles. “You’re certain that’s it? You didn’t see any beatings?”

“No,” he furrows his brow. Leon _did_ say he had taken care of them. Did he mean that he actually beat the boys up? _And there are two out of four here…_

He sits opposite the principal’s direction until he tells them boys to stand and apologize to him. They both mutter half-hearted sorrys before Emil is then excused.

“Wait, sir, what about Leon? He didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what you’re saying, and I’m trying to see if that’s the truth,” comes a reply. “I don’t want you muddying the facts any further. I’ll call you if we think we need you here again. Thank you.”

“Steilsson, you’re excused,” his homeroom teacher says, and Emil has no choice but to leave. He steals a glance at his friend’s face and finds it eerily robbed of emotion. He’s like a statue. _He’s done this before_ , he realizes with a shudder as he leaves the office.

The walk back is anything but gracious. The halls are cold with the absence of his friend. The sounds return, and the familiar sightings float in and out through the stairwells and walls. He does his best to ignore the wails and screams from the basement, the memories of the freezing darkness creeping up to the surface.

His teacher follows him not long after, going through instruction as normal. Leon does not return by the end of the first period. Or the second. _Was he suspended?_ he dreadfully thinks. His fears turn into reality as the rest of the school day passes by as normal. But it is anything but. Leon. Leon has become his normal. In such a short time, his companionship became the greatest thing in the world to him. He enjoyed their time together, their talks, the warmth, the feeling of breathing freely…

 _It’s all gone_ , he frightfully thinks. He can’t pay attention to the material. The students whispering about the new kid and Steilsson’s relationship with him fall deaf on his ears. He barely hears the last bell when he packs his things and heads out.

Taking a deep breath as he leaves the gates, he heads down the same habitual street as he always walks down until he comes to an intersection. One way will lead him home. The other will lead him towards the Kirkland house. He almost flips his phone out and thinks to call Leon, until he realizes he never bothered to ask Leon for his phone number. _Goddammit, of course I wouldn’t…_ he angrily curses to himself. It’s never been such an issue before. No one had ever wanted his number, not even when he was forced to partake in group projects. Either he had ended up doing the project alone, or the group took over his share on their own, seemingly never wanting to do anything with him. Why should Leon be any different?

But he is. His heart pounds. He misses him. He wants to see him. But will going to his house make him seem desperate? What if he isn’t even there? What if they are still at the school doing some kind of intense questionnaire? What if they took him to the police station? Was it even that intense? He doesn’t know what to do. His feet are frozen. He looks down one street, then the other. Lukas would have scolded him for being home so late, he thought—

_Lukas._

He left him in a bad spot yesterday. That call last night…He should have paid more attention to it. He should have called him this morning and let him know he was alright, to even know if his brother was alright. Never mind Leon for now. Emil has a strong feeling whatever becomes of Leon, he has the strength to overcome it. Lukas may not. He takes the path home.

The crusty manor-like estate greets him like a towering slug of shingles, grey paint, and oozing spirits. He makes a face as he glances up at the roof and water-spotted window panes. He retrieves his keys and unlocks the door, finding the temperature an icy blanket of fog. The thermostat no doubt reads somewhere around twenty-five Celsius. He shivers as he calls Lukas’ name, hearing the chatter in his voice. “L-Lukas? I’m home.”

Nothing. He waits for a good minute. He noticed that his brother’s boots are inside the house, meaning he is not out in the graveyard. He wonders if maybe his brother went to use the restroom or is too busy fiddling with equipment in the basement. He decides to look at the basement first, as much as he dislikes going down there without Leon’s presence.

The space below is the coldest, and not from temperature, alone. The vast darkness of this place swallows light like nothing else. “It helps the spirits draw themselves out,” Lukas told him once, when he used to help him with his experiments. Mathias was there, too, at the time. Emil shudders. His teeth clack no matter how well he tries to close his mouth. He bundles up his blazer by instinct, though he knows it’ll do him little good.

He at last finds his brother in the corner, where smaller instruments lie. There is one attached to his head. He is sitting on a plush chair, something he brought down a while ago, when he ordered a new contraption, the very one on his head. His eyes are covered. It’s impossible to tell if he can hear Emil or not. He tries, anyway.

“Lukas? I-I’m here. Can you hear me?”

He hears no response. He peers closer, wondering if this is some sort of virtual reality device he’s seen on the Internet. But this isn’t like any headset he’s seen: there are heavy tubes and wires connected to parts of the helmet that move into a large box, and a mouthpiece goes over Lukas’ nose and mouth until almost nothing is recognizable of his brother’s face. There’s also something attached to his finger. A pulse oximeter from a glance, but the wires attached read out different sets of numbers than anything he’s seen at his typical checkups. “Lukas…?” He taps the instrument on the side of his brother’s head when suddenly, his entire body goes limp, like a ragdoll over the side of the chair. Emil nearly screams.

 _What the fuck._ His head is ringing. There is a hammer firing in his brain. _What the fuck. Oh gods. Fuck. Fuck!_ He reaches out to tear the instrument from Lukas’ head when something catches him. He was told never to tamper with these, especially when someone is using them. _I have no idea what any of this crap does_ , he comes to the harsh realization. He extends a cautious hand and touches his fingers to Lukas’ neck.

Cold. Still.

 _Fuck…!_ He thinks to call the emergency hotline, but typical doctors won’t know what caused this.

The machine. Something about it made him like this.

Arthur. Arthur will know what to do. Rummaging through his brother’s possessions, he comes across his cellphone. He attempts to open it when he finds it locked by a passcode. Cursing, he tears through Lukas’ notebooks and memos for a phone number, a business card, an article, anything.

Then, by some miraculous instance, he finds an obscure scribble of Arthur Kirkland’s name with a foreign area code and a series of numbers. _Yes!_ He takes out his phone, hands shaking, and dials it. He prays for someone on the other end to pick up.

 _Ring. Ring. Ring—“_ Hello? Lukas?”

“Mr. Kirkland!” he almost cries upon hearing his voice. His nose is already stuffy.

“Emil? Is that you?”

“Yes. Listen, Lukas did something. He’s not moving. There’s a machine strapped to his head, and his pulse is—He doesn’t have a pulse! I don’t know what to do! Please, you have to help me!”

“A machine strapped to his head?” Arthur repeats. “That’s what you said?”

“Yes, it’s covering his eyes. I don’t know if he can even hear me. I-I don’t know if he’s even alive.” The words coming out with his fears, he feels his eyes start to water. It’s all he can do to hold himself together, but he needs to stay calm if only his brother can be saved.

Arthur’s voice is low and calm. “I know what that is. Emil, listen, whatever you do, don’t touch it. Don’t touch your brother—”

“But I did,” he confesses with shattered nerves. “Arthur, I touched him because I thought he was dead, and he fell over—”

“Okay, okay. You’re okay, Emil. Bloody hell, uh—Carefully adjust his body so it’s natural and upright. Don’t touch the machine or anything attached to it. I-I’m out of town right now, but I’ll come over as fast as I can. Er, I’m going to be two hours behind you. Try to keep your wits together until then. And…watch the numbers on the screen? There should be a tablet device that shows numbers. If _any—_ and I mean _any_ of them start turning red, call for an ambulance immediately. Not before or after then. Do you understand me?”

“I-I understand,” Emil sniffs. “Thank you.”

He hears a low sigh over the phone. “You know what? You can call Leon. He can come over and keep you company. Um, I really shouldn’t let him go outside after what’s happened, but I think you’d appreciate having him there.”

“Ah—Okay. I can do that…Um, I don’t have his number, though.”

“No? Huh, I would’ve thought he’d be the type of person to sneak his phone number in your cell. You have a pen?”

“Um, yes.” Emil fumbles around his brother’s notes and grabs one. He listens for the number. When he finishes jotting it down, Arthur leaves him with some reassuring words and hangs up. Emil lets out a trembling sigh afterwards. He looks at the number and then to his phone. He creates a new contact and starts to type in the number when his phone reads a notification message.

_You’ve already assigned this number to an existing contact. Add this number, anyway?_

“What?” Emil cancels the command and fumbles through his phone. Sure enough, as Arthur said, Leon’s number is already in his phone. _When did he…?_

He has to figure that out later. For now, he immediately calls Leon and prays that he picks up.

“Heya, Ice. Betcha can’t figure out what happened to me.” Leon’s voice is teetering between bored and taunting. He’s most likely been suspended.

“Leon,” he says, ignoring his opening, “can you come over to my house? Please? I-I really need you here right now.”

“Hmm? Seriously?” Leon sounds skeptical. “I dunno. Something kinda happened, and I’m not really supposed to leave the house.”

“I called Arthur. He said it’s okay. Leon, please. It’s important.”

“…I’m on my way. See ya soon, Ice.” The call disconnects. Emil is left in ringing silence with his brother still flopped over like a corpse. Gathering himself together, he goes over to him and carefully rebalances him back on the chair. Everything about him is eerily morbid. He might as well be handling a cadaver with how lifeless his brother is.

When he does manage to prop him back on the chair, he looks closer at the arteries around Lukas’ neck. It’s subtle, but he does manage to see a slow pulse moving every now and then.

“Lukas, why…?” Did he mean for him to see this when he came home? Did he think he was going to go back to Leon’s house after school today? Did something go wrong? Why wouldn’t he tell him something like this? He would never mean to scare him to this degree. _Why, Lukas?_

He thinks of all the plausible reasons for Lukas having the instrument on his head when a deafening ring echoes from the first floor.

_Ding dooonng!_

“Oh gods!” he screams, his entire body spasming in fright. His nerves rattled, he almost trips going up the stairs and scrambling for the door. His heart his like a jackhammer when he sees Leon standing in front of the doorway, wheezing from having sprinted here.

“…Yo,” he pants and lets himself in. “Got here as fast as I could, Ice.” He collapses onto the nearest loveseat. “So…like, what d’ya need me here for?”

Emil also takes a moment to steady his heart. At the presence of Leon, the space becomes stuffy and warm. He wants to throw his arms around him and hug him. “I…something happened to Lukas. I called your dad, and he said to wait for him to come here.”

Leon catches his breath and holds his forehead to his palm. “What? Did he do something weird?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. Though his nerves are still shaken, it definitely feels better now that Leon is here. “I should just show you.”

Emil takes his friend down the basement stairs and to the corner where the chair lies. Leon steps back when he sees the disturbing sight. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “The fuck? What is this, Ice?”

“I don’t know. Arthur told me not to move him.” He swallows. “He’s cold. I tried to talk to him, but when he wouldn’t answer, I touched the helmet, and he flopped over…” He seizes and looks away. Finally, he collapses onto the ground and sobs. “I was so scared, Leon! We were fighting yesterday. I thought maybe he…!” He feels something warm wrap around him. Leon’s voice lulls into his ears.

“It’s alright, Ice,” he hushes him. “Everything’s going to be fine. I think. My dad’s coming back. He’ll fix this.”

Emil’s throat squeaks as he hiccups. “You’re—*hic*—warm.”

“Huh?”

“Warm,” he repeats. “You’re really…warm…”

Leon and Emil decide to stay in the basement to monitor Lukas’ condition in case the worst happens. As Emil rests his nerves, Leon explains what happened in the office.

“So, yeah, you might’ve guessed it: I got suspended.”

Emil’s throat tightens, though he should have expected as much. “What’d you even do?”

“Broke one of the kids’ jaw. Put the other in a sling.”

“ _What?_ Leon, what the hell!”

“Hey, it really was me or them,” he holds his hands up in defense. “If I didn’t show them who was boss, they’d do the same thing to me. And they’d keep doing it to you.”

“Y—Maybe? But that doesn’t change the fact that you hurt someone.”

“Both you and I know they deserved it. I’ll bet you weren’t the only one they’ve thrown down there.”

Emil cannot argue with that. “So, then, what are you going to do now?”

“I dunno, sulk for a week? Get some comics and movies out of the way, practice some kung fu moves, save the world from an eldritch dragon, the usual.”

“…I think _three_ of those things are plausible.”

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no way I can squeeze kung fu into my schedule.”

Emil laughs, the first time he’s done so in what feels like ages. Leon laughs, too, filling the space with something other than morbid dread. When their voices die down, Leon kicks at some crumpled papers on the floor.

“Peh, I thought I’d finally break in a good streak coming here. I promised that to my dads.”

“What’s that?” Emil blinks.

“Stayin away from bad crowds, being on my best behavior, trying to fit in, acting normal. One reason why I came here was because it was out in the middle of nowhere, Ice. You’d think there’d be less action in a place where nothing happens.” He fingers his bangs. “I guess I just have a natural tendency of attracting trouble, just as much as I can drive ghosts away.”

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty put together before you told me you beat the crap out of four guys.”

Leon smirks. He lifts a finger and playfully flicks it across Emil’s forehead. “That’s because you’re not a good judge of character—no offense.” His expression falls. “I just hate that, y’know, people doing bad stuff to others because they think they’re better than the world. It’s not that simple.”

“You sound like you’re something of a delinquent, yourself, Leon,” Emil scoffs.

“Yeah, but I _know_ I don’t know everything, see? People who think they do don’t. No one does. I just, I dunno, wanna knock some sense into them.”

“You knocked something in, alright.” Leon laughs at that. “Do you even feel guilty?”

Leon gives him a look of what can only be bewilderment. “You feel like forgiving those fucks for throwing you to the ghosts?”

“No…”

“There. So why should I feel bad?”

“I don’t know…” Emil hugs his chest despite the temperature being just right. “I think maybe that sort of thing reminds you you’re human sometimes, or even that you’re here. The things I see are here because they don’t know how to forgive.”

Leon’s eyes soften. “Okay. I’ll feel guilty when you figure out how to forgive them.” In truth, Emil believes he never will.

It takes Arthur as long as he said he would to get to Emil’s house, maybe even a little longer than that. He rings the doorbell just like Leon did, causing both boys to jump with a start.

“Cheese and rice, why d’you guys have a loudass doorbell like that?” Leon hisses, holding his hands to his ears. He runs up the stairs to the front door and lets his father in. “Hey. You’re late.”

Arthur looks like a walking frazzled pile of hay. His hair is messy, and his briefcase is stuffed carelessly with papers and more writing utensils than any sane person would be bothered to pack. He kicks his shoes off and scampers down to the basement without so much as a word—well, Emil can’t really say his grumbling counts as words.

The two watch the paranormal researcher examine Lukas’ seemingly lifeless body and click his tongue. He mutters a few things before touching some of the dials and pressing some buttons. He reads the number aloud and moves his eyes to an open manual, one of many laying around the basement.

“Shouldn’t have done this without me…” he murmurs. “Always need to have someone watching you…” He lets out a long sigh and taps something on Lukas’ helmet. The machine gives a sharp sudden hiss that make the boys jump. Then, it decompresses, loosening its hold on Lukas’ head. Arthur catches him before his neck rolls too far. With care, he pulls out the tubes around Lukas’ orifices and sets him back. “That should do it for now,” he breathes at last. “Your brother’s going to be fine, Emil. A tad weak for a while, but he’ll come around.”

Emil’s lips tremble. “What even happened? Why did he do this, Mr. Kirkland?”

His brother’s partner averts his eyes to the discarded helmet. “It’s a device that stimulates death.”

“Death?” he fearfully echoes. “Why the hell would anyone want to do that?”

“Because when you’re in a near-death state, you experience flashes of delusion or euphoria. Sometimes both. To someone who’s still living, it’s the closest thing we can get to really reaching the other side.

 _The other side._ Emil does not need to be told why Lukas was trying to reach in that place. Leon appears to know, too, as he offers him one of his hands. Emil gratefully takes it. “If he stayed that way too long, would he have…?”

Arthur’s lips tighten. “Probably not on his own, but if you don’t set the thing to a timer or have proper supervision, the user could potentially—er, well, the cause is mostly because of lack of food and water at that point, but I’m more than confident you would have found him before it got to that point. I’m glad you called me when you did.” He wears a sympathetic look when he sees how distraught his son’s friend is. “All we can do is let his body’s condition stabilize, Emil. When he gets better, we can set him down for a proper rest. He’s going to need some food, too. You’ve done all you can at this point.”

 _Did I?_ Emil wonders with a hole in his heart. He should have never said those things to Lukas. He should have been stronger, more mature. If he could hold himself together, none of this would have happened. _But it was me rejecting him in the first place that caused all of this…_ His eyes pool with guilt and regret. He mulls over the past and thinks of what could have been, had he only been a better brother. How has it gotten to this point?

“Ice,” Leon suddenly says. His smile is unfittingly wide for his typically neutral face. “My dad said Lukas was gonna need some food, so why don’t we make something? Food should be ready by the time he comes around, right, old man?”

“I’m not old,” his father grumbles under his breath, but he confirms his research partner should be recovered by the time supper is prepared.

Leon takes Emil to the kitchen and begins rummaging through the refrigerator and pantry. He finds rocky loaves of bread—rye and whole grain—packages of preserved smoke salmon, capers, a generous container of creamed cheese, some other cheese wrapped in shrink wrap, crackers, a bundle of kale, a handful of potatoes, and a single red onion. “Uh.” Leon struggles to formulate an edible recipe. To Emil, the ingredients are perfect for a light snack. He normally tops bread or crackers with cheese and smoked salmon and capers. He tells his friend as much while he stands there lost in thought.

“Ice, you guys need to _cook_. You can’t just eat meat and cheese all day.”

“It’s how we were brought up,” he shrugs. Of course, he remembers Leon’s from Hong Kong. Serving dairy products and fish doesn’t go over so smoothly all of the time, it seems. “Um, we do boil our potatoes?”

“Gods, you boil them?” Leon makes a face. “Like, not even roast or stir-fry them? _Boil?_ ” In his defense, Emil never knew one can stir-fry potatoes. “Okay, I’m going to go back to my place and get some stuff. You stay here, alright?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Cool. Okay, see ya in a few.” Leon grabs his blazer and throws it over his body. He calls to his father about going back to the house for something and heads out, not bothering to lock the door. Emil chooses to leave it unlocked. Perhaps Leon will not ring the doorbell when he returns.

With nothing else to do, he returns to the basement, a fell chill shrouding the concrete floor in a low mist. Spirits of mice and rotting corpses claw at the floor, something brushing against his ankles. He does his best to ignore them. Arthur is looking at each and every one of them with pure fascination. He takes notes and scribbles quick sketches in a plain notebook, a light smile playing on his face. He is taking the whole situation a lot better, perhaps for knowing how the death-inducing helmet works.

The paranormal researcher sees Emil and calls him over. The tubes that were once intruding into Lukas’ mouth and nostrils have since been removed. His brother looks like he’s sound asleep. “So you’ve been able to see them all this time,” Arthur says. “You never stopped seeing them.”

“Right…”

“Hmm,” the research hums. “I’m sure you’ve had your reasons for wanting to do away with the sightings, but I think you’ll find comfort in knowing Leon appreciates your company.”

Emil timidly smiles. “I kind of hoped he did.”

Arthur sets down his notebook and looks distantly to a trio of floating wisps drifting aimlessly in and out of the machinery. Those that don’t take form cannot remember what they were when they were alive. They are left to wander as formless amalgamations, stuck in the limbo between life and death. It is a sad existence, or perhaps not, if they don’t remember living at all. Emil tries to convince himself of the latter.

“Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to behave himself when coming here,” Arthur sighs, still staring ahead.

“Leon, you mean.”

“Yes. Leon. My divorce was sloppy, and it came at a bad time. Leon was young and inexperienced with the world and his emotions. He became angry and confused. He took it out on others: students, teachers, neighbors, family…” He emptily chuckles. “At first, his other father and I thought signing him up in martial arts would let him channel some of that anger. But it only made him stronger in the physical sense. He ended up getting violent. He told you he lived in Hong Kong most of his life, didn’t he?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Hmm. Well, he ended up having to move schools a lot, after getting into too many fights. He became detached. Every time he changed schools, he felt he could change a little part of himself to fit in. Or not. His other father would tell me he was going through one of those adolescent rebellious phases and he’d grow out of it, and it wouldn’t matter as long as his grades were good.” Arthur bitterly smirked. “Bloody good that's done us. Leon’s smart. He’s always been like that, a hard worker. That’s when my ex didn’t care what he got involved with so as long as his grades had high marks.

“But we both knew he was getting to be too much. That’s why when I came here for a job, I gave him the opportunity of coming with me. He wouldn’t have to go to a cram school for the gifted or what have you. He could start over again, completely this time. We all thought it was good. Hell, I’d still say Leon thinks it’s good, too.” He heavily sighs. “But wouldn’t you know it? He already got suspended—this time, for what I actually think was a genuinely uncalled-for reason.”

Arthur looks Emil’s way and studies him for a moment. His gaze his not as penetrating as Leon’s exposing one. There is something more academic and technical about his approach. “I’m not sure what Leon finds so different about you that he’d act the way he does. He's never been so eager to include someone else in his life like this. Whatever it is, I’m happy he found someone he could call a friend.”

Emil feels his cheeks grow hot. He bashfully looks away, hoping Arthur will not catch his face growing red. Arthur must have caught the gesture because he immediately backtracks. “Uh, that said, if you don’t find his company preferable, that’s fine, too. It must be shocking hearing about his background like this, coming from me and all. Leon’s mature enough to understand wherever you might be coming from. He is my son, so I would like to see him happy, but not at the expense of someone else’s suffering.”

“No, not at all!” Emil is quick to say. “It’s been so short a time, but Leon’s honestly the best things that’s happened to me in a long time. I’m really glad he’s my friend. I never knew how much I needed one…”

Arthur smiles with a warm glow that makes Emil forget about their other company for the moment. “I’m glad, too.”

It’s another twenty minutes or so before Leon returns. He remembers not to ring the doorbell. His arrival is instead announced by a loud shout from the kitchen, calling for Emil to help him. “You go on ahead,” Arthur says, “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on your brother.”

Emil thanks him and goes upstairs. Leon’s dumped an entire stockade of groceries fit for a feast.

“Uh. Wow.” Emil goggles at the assortment of vegetables, meats, packed noodles, and sauces. “What are you going to make?”

Leon widely grins. “A fusion.”

“…Fusion?”

“Y’know? A clash between two cultures' foods? Like, Chinese and Mexican, or Thai and Cajun. We’re going to try Cantonese and, uh, like, what are you again?”

Emil blows a raspberry laugh. “Icelandic. But Lukas is Norwegian.”

His friend raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Thought you were Russian or something. Anyway, Cantonese and Icelandic-Norwegian. I’m going to try making a pan-fried noodle dish with that salmon in your fridge.” Emil nearly protests, as the salmon is of the highest grade of smoked salmon one can buy in the middle of nowhere. But he falls silent as he sees how much effort Leon’s is putting into caring.

 _“He’s never been so eager to include someone else in his life like this."_

Never? Not even when he seems to have his life so put together on the surface? He appears to go by his own tempo and fight against those who threaten to oppose it. He has his own interests and isn’t afraid of sharing them. He’s bold and brash, yet passionate and considerate. His movements flow like foam with the tide. He draws Emil in, too. Slowly. Closer. His body is warm. Has another’s company ever been so inviting? He can see the light reflecting in Leon’s molten gold eyes.

“…ce?”

He snaps back into reality. “Hnngh?”

Leon smirks. “I asked if you wanted to try it before serving it to your brother.” The food’s already done. How long was he spacing out for?

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” In front of him is a small plate of curled yellow-colored noodles. Emil’s seen this before, some time ago when his parents took him to a Chinese restaurant. There are vegetables mixed generously in with the salmon; the mushrooms, carrots, and corn he recognizes, but the greens don’t look quite like cabbage or spinach. He takes a bite anyway. It’s delicious.

“Good?” Leon beams.

“Yeah. Very.” He eats another bite, never realizing how hungry he was. He hasn’t eaten anything since lunch, and that was hours ago. “Thank you, Leon.”

“Cool. That means it’s edible.” Leon takes a picture of him while he’s still eating.

Emil freezes. “What are you doing?”

“Saving this. It’s cute. Now I have a memory of you _and_ my new recipe, Ice.”

He blushes. “You’re not going to share that around with anyone, are you?”

“No. Who could I share it with? This is for me.”

 _For him?_ Emil opens his mouth to say something when Arthur enters the kitchen.

“Boys, Lukas is awake. I want you with me on standby in case something goes wrong.” They drop what they’re doing and follow him back to the basement. Emil’s throat tightens again, and despite Leon’s company, the air around him feels cold.

Sure enough, Lukas is coming to. He opens his eyes at half-slit and begins to move his fingers and neck. Arthur hovers over him, waving a hand to see if he’ll respond. He speaks in quiet slow sentences to make sure he’s still able to process speech. “Lukas, this is Arthur. If you can hear me, tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

“Three,” comes a mutter from his lethargic lips. “How lll…ong was I…out?”

Arthur breaks his composure for a moment, betraying exasperation. “I could tell you that if you told me when you were even thinking of going into an induced death. You know how much you worried your brother here?” He points to Emil, who’s unsure if he should approach. “You scared us all half to death, ourselves. And what you did was breaking protocol. Something like that could get your license suspended. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” comes an immediate response. Lukas’ dark blue eyes roll over to Emil. “Hey, little brother.”

He doesn’t know if he should be angry or relieved. Most of him says he deserves to feel both. But all that comes out is a simple “Hey” back.

Not wanting to wedge himself between the brothers, Arthur takes a step back and lets Lukas’ breathing stabilize. They wait and watch him until he finds the strength to sit up on his own. Finally, when it looks like Lukas is well enough to speak without a slur, he stares first at his brother, then at the helmet. The silence is deafening. Then, “Mom and Dad say hi, by the way.”


End file.
